


The Styx

by AngelaEvil



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Noir, Beware, Bootlegging, Charon - Freeform, Dark Past, Determination, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guns, I will throw in all of the symbolism!, I'm in a Interperative Lit Class, Magic, Mystery, Other, Styx - Freeform, Swearing, Symbolism!, as in the drug, be mindful of the color red, hitman Sans, mafiatale, not really - Freeform, oh right...substance abuse, sort of, theslowesthnery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:31:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelaEvil/pseuds/AngelaEvil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans has been out of the mob for nearly half a decade when Papyrus is taken captive, along with several other memembers of Asgore's "kingsmen" gang. The skeleton now has to decide, fall back into his old ways or strive to be better, all while trying to get his brother back in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Typical Tuesday

Sans shifted his vest, trying not to flinch at the glass pressing against his ribs. Smuggling was a business he was damn good at it, if only on the virtue that no one thought to pat down his insides; not that he would let them. He’d gotten used to humans and pat downs long ago. Occupational hazard. Of course he had a reputation as the best smuggler in the Greater Ebbot area but nothing the beat cops could ever stick him with. It’s a good thing, too. Working hard to get a rep had been a pain in the tailbone, now that he had it buyers weren’t too keen on shirking their deals.

There were, however, always a few numbskulls that thought they could pull one over on him. Cut his end and run. Just cause he was a monster. Humans,  _ always _ arrogant, thinking just because most monsters get the short end when it comes to education that everyone’s an idiot.

That was, in fact, his current issue. 

The warehouse district down on the riverfront, not much going on if you don’t know where to look. No witnesses. Just the way black market dealers liked it. Unfortunately that also meant he wasn’t likely to get back up if things went south. Decent lighting was also difficult to come by, meaning standing in between the mostly shadowed buildings was the only option. The skeleton didn’t technically need the light like humans did, he could still ‘see’ in total darkness even without his eyes lit, but light made his clients more comfortable and less likely to shoot at him.  

Speaking of shooting, Sans glaced over the repertoire of current buyers. Three men, two with tommies and one with a briefcase were hanging back while he was stuck with another human, their boss most likely, trying to haggle. New gangs cropping up everywhere, he’d deal with all of them if they had the cash. His first mistake.

“look, pal,” Sans cast his gaze into the barren street, searching for any hint of life in the shadowed alleyways, just in case, before returning his glowing pupils to the human. “i’m just an honest skeleton trying to make an not-so-honest livin’, alright? so you either pay what we agreed on or you don’t waist my time.”

The man grit his teeth, the fake smile on his face dipped as he regarded Sans with contempt. “I don’t think you understand the position you’re in, monster.”

“and  _ i _ don’t think you know who you are dealing with,  _ human. _ ” Sans bit back with just as much venom, letting his eyes go out. “money for product. capitalism, pal. we all walk away happy,” the skeleton forced his grin wider, the cigar between his canines audibly crunching from the pressure, “or just  _ i _ will.”

For the briefest moment the miniscule glow from the dingy streetlamp was overpowered by a brilliant blue flash, washing over the rain slicked pavement. For that briefest moment Sans felt like his old self again, younger, clever, less scared, and very, very powerful. The moment was over as fast as it had occurred leaving the humans startled and pale. They had felt it too, Sans could see it in the way their souls trembled, that’s him, that’s LOVE he had accumulated over the years. 

Humans weren’t totally insensitive to that kind of thing, it just took them a little longer to get the message. Fortunately it didn’t seem like Sans would have to demonstrate. The lead human, with tremorous hand, beckoned over the one toting a briefcase. $550, in smaller bills like fives and tens per Sans request, rested within. The skeleton felt his grin grow more genuine. They at least had the good sense to bring the agreed amount. 

With a flick of his wrist one of the bottles apparated into his hand. This wasn’t the cheap kind of booze you’d get from a local distiller’s basement; this was a Monster 1850’s vintage of champagne. Not cheap in the least. The kind of liquid courage you reserved for yourself. They were paying for more than just one bottle of course, but that’s where Sans put his magic to work. The crate he’d been holding above the warehouse gently dropped down next to the humans’ automobile while Sans pulled the other two bottles out of his ribs. It was hard not to give a relieved sigh once the pressure on his spine was gone.

The humans seemed more than a little surprised, quickly putting together why Sans was so highly cited in his business. He was passed the briefcase and the humans made their way off, speeding down the road faster than strictly necessary with fifteen bottles of bravery in their back seat. Poor sods probably didn’t know the difference between DT extract and what they just bought up. He chuckled and shook a head at the greenhorns’ enthusiasm. It didn’t suit humans.

That reminded Sans, Papyrus’s birthday was coming up and he needed to get his brother something. Something nice hopefully. His cut of this deal was $275, quite a hefty sum as far as monsters were concerned. He used to make more but those days were long behind him. No more contract killing for this skeleton, no sir. Much too fragile now. One too many bullets clipping his ribs for that anymore.

Sans paced away from the warehouses back into downtown. He’d get a cab to the Ruins, a nearly unoccupied section of town torn up from gang wars, and walk to his apartment from there. His body could be on auto pilot once he slipped the briefcase into the in-between. While it was feasible to hop from the warehouses on the river’s waterfront to his bedroom, it wasn’t a short trip and he actually had things to do tonight. Couldn’t just crash once at home. So traveling the old fashioned way, at least for most of the trip, would do him just fine.

Sans glanced at his watch, swearing quietly to himself. Did he have enough time for flowers? Should he even get flowers? What about his clothes? A plain button up, grey-blue suit vest, and black slacks weren’t the best first impression. But first impressions didn’t really matter when they’d been exchanging letters for years. How long had it been since he’d gotten one, much less since they had met in person? Not for five years at least. Did they really miss him? Him of all monsters? No, couldn’t be. The lazy, hitman for hire was not someone to make friends with. 

Sans staggered, just catching himself in time to keep his balance. Some poor guy with not nearly enough wit lay passed out drunk in the alley way. Sans had been so lost in his own skull he’d not noticed. He gave a quick glance at the surrounding shops to get his barrings. Maybe five or so minutes from Grillby’s by the looks of it.

“ugh, i don’t have time for this.” Despite his protest Sans tapped the man awake with his foot. The human looked up at him, bloodshot bleary eyes widening in a gape at his smirking skull. “pal, i’d scram if i was ya… cops ‘round here look for every excuse to beat somebody.”

Surprisingly the drunk was coherent enough to nod, seeming more frightened by the skeleton than what Sans had been saying, and scrambled off in a hurry.

Sans shook his head, turning to be on his way again. Then deciding better of it and just shortcutting back to his neighborhood. He was close enough now that it wouldn’t kill him to expend some extra energy for time. Most days he couldn’t be damned to get anywhere on time, but not tonight. He couldn’t afford not to care tonight.

He sauntered out of the side street by his apartment building, one of the few places in town that would rent to monsters, making a mental list of everything he’d need to bring. Some Temmies were milling about in front of the building, casting Sans wary glances, except for Bob who was waving. Sans’ grin softened a bit and he nodded back, stamping out his cigar before walking in. Metalton didn’t like it when people smoked inside the apartments, not that the showman was ever around to complain much. 

“hey,” he grunted to Napstablook as he passed. The poor ghost looked like he had a heart attack, jolting awkwardly at being engaged in conversation. His neighbor was quiet, very shy about his music. Which was a shame, the kid had talent.

“O-oh, hello Sans… sorry for not seeing you… oh, you must be mad, sorry. I’ll just go so-”

“kid,” Sans leaned against his door while rifling his pocket for the key, “I’m just saying hello, stop apologizing.” He fixed Napstablook with a patient, soft-edged glare as the ghost slipped into his normal habits.

It took a moment for the musician to become comfortable but Sans was used to that. “Did you leave your key inside again?”

“heh. must’ve.” Pinpricks of sweat dappled Sans brow. Good thing he’d taken a shortcut, seems like he’d need the extra time after all.

Napstablook just smiled shyly and drifted through the wall, unlocking Sans’ door from the other side and swinging it open. “How do you manage to lock yourself out every day? Oh, sorry, that was rude.”

“nah.” Sans gave the apology a dismissive wave and Blooky a mischievous grin. “i deserved that, heh. well, see ya tomorrow, kid. don’t stay up to late, okay?”

The ghost nodded as they traded places. The monsters bid each other farewells and good nights. Sans closed the door softly, his mind lingering on how empty his home was entirely unbidden. He worried for Papyrus. If his brother was doing well; if Asgore was holding up his end of the deal.

The skeleton chided himself and paced through the thin entry hall into his den. Paps would be fine, he’s not a baby bones anymore, and to top it all off has a killer left hook, more thanks to him than Undyne. He didn’t need to worry about his brother, the younger skeleton was even stronger than he’d been at Paps’ age. “though i at least had the blasters as a fall back…”

Sans shook the doubt from his skull and walked briskly into his room. The faded sky-blue walls were a nice reminder of where he was. Home, getting ready for a good time with an old friend. In between his tripping over a drunk human and opening up his closet to find something decent, Sans had decided that they were indeed friends. No one else shared his sense of humor after all. Now that he was out of the old ‘jobs, drinks, and drugs’ self fulfilling prophesy of his youth Sans could get behind the old lady’s philosophy, bitterly wishing he’d listened to her sooner.

The musing didn’t stop the sour taste in his mouth when he spotted an old rusty-red three piece he used to wear. It didn’t suit him anymore, that old uniform. It still smelled of dust and iron no matter how many times it was cleaned. That wasn’t something that just water could wash away. Ever.

Sans clenched and unclenched his fists, pushing the offending article aside in favor of a black button up and some nicer pants. There was a off-blue vest and matching tie to go with it and the skeleton plucked one of his better pairs of suspenders from a designated drawer. He picked a pair of simple white cufflinks. His dressier black and white loafers were the obvious choice of footwear.

With his clothes handled, Sans took a quick brush to his teeth, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything in way of food from his lunch. It was a nervous habit for him, checking his teeth. Like that one human who runs fingers or a comb through their hair. Teeth were the only features a skeleton could be vain about that made sense to others. Things like fretting over ribs weren’t as understandable but Sans could only think of the comparison as a waistline on human. Though fortunately this one vanity he allowed himself could be intimidating when played right. It helped to have bite strength like a crocodile.

His preening done, Sans fixed his outfit once more, scooped up his trenchcoat, a nice navy one with a custom cut to fit his shoulders, a fedora, and his keys, heading out into the chilled fall night. Bob, blessed little creature that he was, waved Sans farewell as he passed. Temmies used to be friendlier, but that was before he’d switched carries. Now he was in supposed competition with them, though he could never figure quite how the Tem Shop owner fenced everything he’d brought in for her. He’d have to remember to get her and Bob something for Christmas soon or he’d never do it.

Sans hailed a taxi, climbed in, and was pleasantly surprised to see a monster he didn’t recognize. Someone who wouldn’t look at him narrowly or ask if they’d met before. Just what he needed really. “spider cafe on twelfth.” His voice had a bounce that he didn’t need to force this time.

“Muffet’s place?”

“yeah.”

The driver gave a nervous chuckle and Sans coked a browbone. “Okay then.”

“owe ‘er money, kid?”

“N-no.” The driver balked at the idea of being that unfortunate before his somber expression resurfaced. “You really haven’t heard? About what’s going on in that part of town?”

“i make it my business not to know that. keep my volmer out of other people’s and they leave me well enough alone.” When the driver gave him a funny look Sans tapped the thin bone separating what would be his nasal cavities if he’d a nose. “anatomy humor, kid.”

“Oh, haha. I get it. About staying out of things, I mean. Though, you might want to rethink going into that neighborhood. The Kingsmen expanded their territory and the humans that used to run the block don’t like it too much. There’s been three stabbing incidents in the past two days.”

“yikes,” Sans leaned back into the upholstery. “i’m just meeting a friend, getting some spider cider, and heading out again. hopefully i won’t run into the wrong sort.” His grin was a little more forced than when he’d left but hey, new faces, new places. Make the most of this. “don’t get me wrong, pal. it’s  _ knife _ to meet new people but i didn’t plan on  _ cutting  _ my visit short.”

The driver groan. “You’re one of  _ those _ ?”

“what, not tickling your  _ funny bone _ ?”

He barked a laugh at the taximan’s grimace just as they pulled up to the street corner. “I’m not driving into the middle of that if I can help it.” Any jovial airs were gone in an instant of flashes.

Sans nodded, the percussion of gunfire dampening his mood into the ground. “how much do i owe you for the ride.” The skeleton paid off the cab and stepped out, keeping out of the fray by a good twenty foot birth. That should be enough that stray bullets wouldn’t be dusting him any time soon.

Fortune was on his side today, as Muffet’s was between him and the mobsters trying to murder each other. He ducked inside and glanced around the nearly empty shop. Most patrons were as far back from the street as possible, or taking cover under tables. Muffet herself was whispering hurried instructions to a large spider-like creature, her pet, before turning to face Sans. “Oh, hello deerie. Didn’t think we’d ever see you in this part of town again.” Her voice was cheery enough, though strained.

“didn’t think i’d ever have a reason to come back. just meeting with an old lady, i’ll have the cider.”

Muffet smiled at him, the knowing kind that he really couldn’t stand and busied herself about the drink. He leaned against the counter, searching the panicked or irritated faces more intently. He could sort out the veterans of hardship from those who’d never had much of it. The gunfire didn’t bother him so much as it had when he was a greenhorn. In a game of who’s who, it’d be easy enough to pick out which gangs each monster belonged to, unsurprising that the boldest were counted amongst the Kingsmen. There were a few from smaller splinters that didn’t seem quite as agitated until sirens wailed in the distance.

Sans dropped into a nearby booth when Muffet handed him the drink. His gaze seeking out a particular face. The shop door chimed open, hushed whispered passed through the cafe and Muffet brought out a table cover with strategically placed dishes and half eaten pastries. Monster of the Kingsmen gang slid into the chairs, each taking on a mannerism as if they’d been sitting their for a good while. He found himself grinning. They kept using his idea, hu? “not sure wether to be proud or offended,” the skeleton mumbled to himself just as a large white monster sat regally in the booth across from him.

“Proud, I suspect. How have you been, Sans?”

“nice to see you too, tori.” Sans let his gaze drift off the mobsters’ table onto his ‘new’ acquaintance. “ya know this is our ‘first meeting’, right?”

The goat monster flushed slightly with an embarrassed smile.

“take that as a yes then.” He lifted his glass to her just as two police officers threw open the door. One spotted Sans and deigned to sneer at him. He waved back with a sardonic snort.

“Friends of yours?” Toriel murmured into her tea, a cup he’d not noticed before. Most likely taken from the mobster’s table.

“define, friend.”

“I see.” Her response was measured, caution permeating her tone as she gazed at the humans. The monsters remained like that, eyes on cops while they tried, and failed, to get something on the incident. Nice to see them frustrated with out having a gun pointed at him this go ‘round. They stormed out in due time.

“you asked me how i am, could be better, could be much worse.”

“Your HP?”

“still one.”

Toriel noded, considering her paws for a moment. “I could always-”

“tori.” She met his eyes with no small amount of hesitance. “you’ve got to let it go. this isn’t your fault. I did some shit and now i’m paying for it. end of story.”

“I know you think you deserve this Sans, but-”

“i don’t ‘think’ tori, i know.” The lights in Sans eyes had gone out, his gaze tracing faded nicks and old divots in his metacarpals before clearing a non-existent throat. “how’s paps?”

“Oh, Papyrus is grand,” her glowing smile flitting back onto her muzzle. She gushed over his brother for a solid five minutes, and could have gone on had she not realized her out of character rambling. Sans thought it was just her mothering nature matching up with Paps’ exuberant and almost child-like personality. He wondered if that had changed, briefly dropping his grin a bit. “Worried?”

She really did pick up on everything didn’t she? “yeah.” Sans shrugged, pulling off his jacket, even though he didn’t feel the heat. Might as well settle in if this conversation was as long as he’d hoped. “asgore still keeping his end?”

Toriel’s smile faltered. Sans didn’t like the guilty feel from her eyes darting away. “Yes and no.” The goat monster flinched at the scratch of Sans fingers against the table. Her gaze drawn to the unconsciously clenched fist. “Asgore is not letting him fight on the front lines, but…”

“he’s not just the getaway driver, ain’t he.”

“I’m afraid so.” Her paw moved over his battle worn fingers, face tinged with a deep sorrow that Sans hadn’t expected from her. “You know how much he hates hurting others. Please don’t worry about  _ that _ , Sans. We are his friends and we want Papyrus to be happy.”

Feeling a little less murderous, Sans let the warmth of Toriel’s fur sink into his bones. “yeah. i know. not gonna stop worrying though, it’s my job.”

“Sans…”

“oh yeah.” The skeleton motions like he’s reaching into his pocket, but is really just pulling some change from the in-between. “give this to alph for me. tell ‘er the rest is coming soon, once i find a safer way to move it.” He muttered the last part under his breath, briefly swearing mentally at the cops, busting one of his stashes. Last time he trusts anyone else to run courier jobs for him.

“Are you leaving already?”

The hurt in her tone makes Sans freeze up for a second. His mind leapt back to the first time she had said that, bloodstained bones, a cracked eye socket, singed suites, the darkness. He shuddered. “yeah. sorry to disappoint, tori. guess we didn’t tell any jokes tonight, hu? when was the last time that happened?” Sans wasn’t waiting for an answer, scooping up his jacket, adjusting his hat, and dropping the coins for his cider on the counter.

He stopped at the door. Held in place just as Toriel solemnly replied, “It’s never happened before.” Sans gives one last look at the ‘Monster Queen’, brow dipping up and regret eating into his ribs.

He pushes the door open and walks briskly into the chilly night air. He needed a stiff drink, preferably from Grillby’s.


	2. Weirdness on Wednesday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans goes to Grillby's. Undyne shows. Sh!t happens.  
> Sans is supper f@cked up and he knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this almost immediately after finishing so guaranteed I missed some editing stuff. I'll go back and fix it later.

Sans rolled the warm glass in his hands, watching the red, slightly glowing liquid shift against its transparent prison. Grillby leaned forward on the counter with an expectant look. The Grill, and speakeasy if you knew the code word, was practically empty. The few other patrons murmuring in hushed tones to each other over burgers and beers. Soft jazz did little to distract the skeleton from the whispering voices.

“... Sans….what is wrong?” Grillby was always soft spoken but in the immediate silence, the fire elemental’s voice was louder than he’d ever heard it before. Firmer.

He sighed. “i don’t know why they call these ‘bloody marys’. don’t even look like blood.” He should know. He’s seen enough to last five lifetimes. Monster lifetimes to be exact. That’s, what… two hundred years or so per.

“Sans…” The barkeeper's tone coerced him into relenting.

“i saw tori.”

Grillby leaned back, the color of the flames over his glasses shifting to a slight yellow and spluttering. The fire elemental’s way of raising his eyebrows. “...You’re upset… from that?”

“no,” he muttered begrudgingly to his friend. “the conversation… hit some old nerves an’... i dunno grilbz. i’m worried an’ anxious an’...”

“...Papyrus?”

“yeah.” Sans shrugged up his jacket, locking his eyes on his drink. Before he kept spilling his doubts, and also in a bid to organize his thoughts, Sans knocked back the entire glass. His ribs shuddered as the magic coctail sunk into his bones.

“You love her… don’t you?” Grillby crackled softly in a chuckle at Sans’s blue flush.

“t-this ain’t about my love life grillbz.” He dipped his hat down, failing to hide the tint on his cheekbones. “‘sides, tori and asgore are back together. i’ve never been more than a friend anyway…”

“...” Sans didn’t look at Grillby, listening instead to the soft squeak of the bar keep cleaning a glass. The flaming monster left his spot behind the bar and slid onto the stool to Sans’s left. He could sense the heat coming off the living flame though it didn’t bother him any in spite of his heavy jacket.

Grillby leaned back into the counter pulling out a pack to cigars. “Want… one?”

“sure, pal.”

The monsters sat there in relative silence for a long while, cigars being eaten in different directions. Sans alway found it odd, the way Grillby just let the chemical stick burn between his ‘teeth’ the same way a small kid might chew a lollipop.

Smoke curled out of Sans’s nose, from his teeth, and the back of his jaw. It didn’t do much for him, not like he had any lungs. Instead he was able to relax, focusing on the air flow through his ribs, keeping the smoke moving how it was supposed to. Sans didn’t smoke cigars so much as he chewed on them, but Grillby lit the one offered when handing it to Sans so he just went with it.

In that relative quiet, Sans gazed at the last red drop, lazily spread in the glass bottom. The glow reminded him of syringes, screams, and shattered bones. A name echoed hollowly in his skull and he snarled at nothing. What was it about the color red that bothered him so much? He’d been dyed with it, the iron stains that never quite left, ever clinging in the divots of his bones. Old bones, scared from misuse. Cracked bones, still solid but less flexible. It was one of the reasons his grin was so lopsided, broken jaw.

Seeing Toriel again had brought these thoughts back to him. Unbidden. Unwanted. Regretful. Repulsive. Events that plagued his shadowed sockets even now. He would never be able to forget what he’d seen. What he’d done.

“i can’t go back.” He closed his eye sockets, smoke curling from the edges. Grillby had been patient, like always, and if he was honest, Sans would admit his need to confide these aches in someone. It wasn’t possible though. There wasn’t words that could describe what transpired in his skull that contained the appropriate amount of severity. Jokes just wouldn’t cut it tonight.

The slight pressure on his shoulders coupled with what would have been painful heat had he any feeling left in that shoulder blade alerted Sans to Grillby’s side hug. “I… know.”

He gave a hoarse laugh, fairly sure he’d be crying if he even could. He’d been changed to much to cry. Just lost the ability to a long time ago. Smoke would have to do.

Grillby stood, stiffening and Sans picked up on a presence he’d been momentarily numb to. Undyne. “Hello… Can I… help-…” The two monsters stared each other down for a moment before Grillby gave a nervous splutter and moved back behind the bar. Undyne leveled her gaze at Sans. Her amber eye was clouded with sadness and confusion. He felt his soul sink.

Undyne the enforcer, Asgore’s official second in command and the ‘Monster King’s’ protegee, not to mention Paps second teacher; himself being the first obviously. She looked about as uncomfortable in that red evening dress as  _ Sans _ was to  _ see _ her in it. The fabric did very little to hide her muscles. Undyne was not a woman meant for dresses, but appearances are important. Especially if her nervous glances at the seat next to him meant anything.

Undyne wasn’t much older than Paps, making Sans ten year her senior at least, not to mention it was really hard for him to not be intimidating when seated. Broad shoulders and a larger torso meant that he seemed taller than normal seated. Couple that with the smoke and the way his pupils had winked out and he could really come off as threatening to approach.

Sans purposefully turned back to Grillby, quirking up one ‘brow’ and exhaling the smoke in a long suffering sigh. “you still payin’ out to the kingsmen, grillbz?”

The fire shook his head slowly, gaze trained untrustingly on Undyne.

Sans shrugged up his shoulders and tapped his glass on the table thoughtfully. “a stiff one then.” He passed the cup to Grillby and gestured to Undyne. She gave an irritated huff and unceremoniously dropped onto the stool next to him. He had to stifle the chuckle _tickling_ _his_ _ribs_ at her grimace. No one likes sitting on pre-warmed leather unless it’s the _dead_ of winter. “what’s got you so _blue_ , kid?” Now he was starting to feel a bit better.

The redhead turned a blazing eye on him, no longer quite so nervous, sputtering in indignation. “K-Kid!” Sans was fairly certain the loose tumbles of her hair would be bristling if it wasn’t held in place by copious amounts of product. It must be a pain to wash out.

“yeah.” Sans let himself deadpan the word, more than a little perturbed at his thankfulness. Undyne was good for getting himself out of his skull. It irritated him that she didn’t seem bad enough to hate. Any time he actually got to write Paps, his bro wouldn’t shut up about how cool she was. He remembered when she was a brat hanging off Asgore’s leg, watching nothing with any amount of attention. A punk really. He mistook her for a boy at first, but a second glance at her soul made it clear that wasn’t the case.

Judging by the way her gaze shifted into disapointed scrutiny Sans was going to have to talk with Asgore about what legacy of rumors the ‘Monster King’ was spreading. “Y-you’re Sans, right?” She sounded so unsure, he couldn’t resist sending a mischievous glance Grillby’s direction. 

The elemental just shook his head and sighed, a crackling, hissing sound, pouring two glasses of ‘Magic 3’ for Sans and Undyne. Sans knocked back the blue-green glowing liquor and turned to Undyne, setting the shot glass upside down. “depends who’s askin’.”

Undyne actually managed to bristle despite all the hair gel, flicking a cascade of her blood-colored locks over her ear to show off her eyepatch and leering teeth. “You livin’ under a rock or something? I’m Undyne, here looking for Sans on Asgore’s behalf!”

Okay, she was loud. “and why would asgore be looking for him?” She really had no memory of what he looked like? Or he had changed so much that he couldn’t  _ be _ recognized.

“He’s the only person who knows where ‘Charon’ is.”

Grillby dropped the glass he’d been cleaning. The shattering mimicked a feeling somewhere within Sans’s soul. “can’t help you.” He gruffed, turning to stare at his overturned cup, suddenly wishing he had another drink. 

“So you  _ are _ Sans.” Undyne leaned forward, giving him a hard look. “You’re not as big as Papyrus’s makes you out to be.”

“paps wasn’t that big when we last had a real talk.” He begrudgingly looked at the fishmonster, keeping his gaze stern. There was _no_ _way_ Asgore would ask for ‘Charon’ to come back, unless something had happened, something really bad. If nothing else, Asgore was a monster of his word. Once a promise is made it could never be broken, so for the ‘King’ to go back on _this_?

He returned the scrutiny being paid him, really observing the captain. He noticed it then, the slight peek of a bandage at her neckline, the copper tint to her skin, the reek of dust that wasn’t quite washed away. Undyne was injured. His gaze traced into the middle ground, focused on her soul. Soul reading is his specialty, no surprise it took less than a second for him to assess the damage. If Undyne was this badly hurt… how was Papyrus?

“why does asgore want charon?”

She looked suddenly uncomfortable again, taking the shot of ‘Magic 3’ that had been in front of her and leaned on the counter. “Some of our people got nabbed in a reclamation, most of our best fighters. It was a blunder. A trap. Charon’s supposed to be the strongest monster around, and is a mercenary with Kingsman blood to boot. Asgore wants him to fight on our side again…” She trails off, looking at him.

Sans jaw has clamped full force on the cigar, tearing it in two. The blunted ends of his canines pointed out, the blue flash in his vision briefly illuminating her shocked face. His phalanges scraped against the counter harshly as he stood. “sorry to cut and run on ya, grillbz.” There was no mirth in his voice, but rather a dark, icy glint to his smile. “put it on my tab. undyne can pay for her own drink.” He turned on his heel and walked out, not bothering to look back.

He was followed though. Asgore’s lieutenant, the ever faithful  _ dog _ of a fishmonster, caught up to him. Did she even  _ know _ what she was being sent for? Did Asgore even think for a fucking second before calling on ‘Charon’ again? That wasn’t what had gotten Sans so riled. He wasn’t mad at Undyne, and certainly not Asgore. No he was furious with himself, for leaving Papyrus with them, for not toughing it out with his brother. He really was useless, wasn’t he? Dry, fragile bones clenched into fists shaking as he stalked off into the night.

“Wait! HEY, I said WAIT!” Undyne  leaned down and grabbed his arm, she was much taller than Sans. “Don’t you even care?!” She spat, “They have Papyrus too! He’s your brother, unless dumping him on the Kingsmen’s doorstep was your way of saying you don’t give a fuck about what happens to-”

Sans lost it. Slamming Undyne back into an alley wall and glaring at her. “shut. up.” The monster he pinned let out a strangled gasp as the pressure increased. If he kept this up, she’s be a smudge of red and gray in a few seconds, assuming the wall held. The red tint to his magic evidenced the buzzing in his skull. It itched, the inside of his bones… It felt good.

“fuck,” Sans hissed, yanking back his magic and strangle holding it down into his ribs. That was too close. Way too close.

Undyne slid to the ground, gasping in shock and brow knitted in mixed pain and anger. She’d opened her mouth to speak but Sans cut her off.

“never say i don’t care about paps again.” His sockets were devoid of light and his smile had been replaced by his broken-jawed snarl. “if asgore wants charon, he’ll have to get ‘em himself. tell ‘im that. if he wants  _ me _ , he can have me.” 

Sans turned to walk away, throwing one last look at Undyne to see if he really could just leave her here. She was already on her feet and glaring spears at him. 

“he’ll know where ta find me.”

Once he was out of sight, Sans shortcutted back into his apartment. He dropped onto the edge of his bed, skull in hands, a muffled sob in his clenched teeth. His eyes drifted to a locked box on top of his dresser. In there was something that could make the itching stop. It could also make his soul stop. It could end everything he’d been fighting for tooth and nail these last five years. He couldn’t do that to himself. He couldn’t do that to Paps.

His molars ground together, leg bouncing. Sans stood and started pacing, an unchecked stream of profanities making their way into the air around his head. Those people that took his brother… the were going to have a   **b a d** **_f u c k i n g_ ** **t i m e.**

_ No mercy. Kill them for it. Rip out their soul and tear it to pieces. Make them watch. “just like how we used to.” _

Sans jolted at the unwelcome chill running up his spine. 

“fuck…”

His vision was red around the edges, skull pounding, bones humming. It was slipping. Everything.

He stepped into the in between with just enough wherewithal to chuck the briefcase he’d left there into his room. The dark emptiness closed in around him like a blanket. Sans let it all out, screaming into the nothingness. Anger, self-loathing, hatred, betrayal, desperation, sorrow.

Magic in brilliant cascades of red and blue and gold painted the darkness, flowing through the void like a long river, stretching into infinity. He was standing in the midst of the current panting and exhausted.

Slowly, ever so slowly the colors flowed back into his bones, reordering themselves like Russian nesting dolls. It filled him up again, the empty, inverted heart in his bony fingers. First red, so deep and dark that no light could escape from it, coated in a layer of gold, brightening the darkness and redirecting the strength into something pure, and finally blue patiently taking its place in what used to be its exclusive space. There, glowing light like a star in the night, was Sans soul… there was Charon, too. He was one and the same. A misdirect turned into a pen name of sorts. Much as it sickened him, he used to think each kill a work of art, a new way to shatter another soul.

A pulse of red crackled over the surface, bleeding through slowly along a diagonal gash. It almost seemed as blood on the blue surface. This prompted Sans to check his LV. The numbers glitched and fuzzed slightly but dropped back to something more reasonable for his situation. He could live with an LV of 3.

Sans pressed his soul back into his ribs, watching as the colors drained out into a creamy white with a blue aura. Monster souls were harder to puzzle than human for this reason. They didn’t naturally have a clear ‘surface’ to look into.

With what little remained of his energy, Sans stepped back into his room, collapsing into bed. This has been a long day. 

“tomorrow… i’m gonna have that talk with asgore…” Sans rolled onto his side, not bothering to even take off his jacket as his sockets slid closed. The problem remained, he couldn’t fight again, never again, but Paps  _ needed _ him, and he could  _ never _ turn his back on his bro. Something was going to give. Only a matter of time.

* * *

He was in a long golden-lit hall, somewhere underground by the pervasive smell of rock around him. A small child, no older than eleven, wearing a striped sweater was staring him down. They had a knife in their hand.

“that’s a dangerous toy ya got there, kid. what ‘cha swingin’ it around for?”

The jolted, staring at him more intently. Something in their expression unsettled him, like they were making up their mind about something. “ _ You’re not that smiley trashbag, are you? _ ”

“what are you talking about?” Smiley-what? Did this kid get into some monster’s dog treats?

They laugh, absolutely elated. “ _ How wonderful! I see you’ve got quite a lot EXP… would you consider joining me then? We could have some fun. _ ” They extended a hand to him, palm facing up and a wicked smile on their face.

At the mention of EXP, Sans turned his gaze to their soul. LV 19. “damn, kid. you a sadist or somethin’?” What kind of dream was this? Definitely not the normal nightmare. His words had sparked something, a flash of ‘light’ determination. It was very subtle and had he not personal experience with determination and the shades it could take, Sans wouldn’t have noticed the layering to the child’s soul. A ‘dark’ determination coated the soul, cracked in a few places, but stifling and hijacking the ‘light’ determination’s power.

“ _ Something like that. _ ” The human effigy laughed at an unknown joke.

“what about the other one?” His brow dipped slightly. It was a hunch, proved right by the sudden, wide-eyed stare being sent his way. They had stopped laughing.

“ _ How do you- _ ” Their hand twitch, signing ‘You can see me?’ with some amount of desperation.

“souls are my  _ radius _ of experience, kiddo. ‘t’s easy when you know what to look for.”

‘I’m so sorry Sans. I didn’t want this.’ They glance down at the self-guiding hand with shock in their glowing red eyes. The dust clinging to their hair and fingers isn’t making it hard to guess what they did.

“don’t apologize to me, kid.” The lights in his sockets went out. “i’ve done  _ much  _ worse than dusting a few hundred people.” He lowers his gaze to the tile as horrific memories bubble to the surface. Even in his daze, Sans can still feel the spike in his magic. The gold room tinted red and blue. It’s sickening and disorienting but something he’s gotten used to all the same.

“ _ Oh? _ ” 

‘What do you mean worse?’

That something in the kid’s smile set’s him on edge, and he can’t help what it’s doing to him. “come’ere kid,” and they obey, walking towards him confidently. Sans dipped his right hand into his pocket, extending the other for a handshake. They take it, gazing intently at him, a glint of confusion in their eyes when it’s just a normal handshake. Sans pulled out his custom, white G-70 Reaper, the only of it’s kind in the world, his sidearm of choice, and fired it point blank into their stomach.

They dropped their knife in shock, legs giving out, and Sans kicked the blade away before they could grab it, still keeping a vice grip on their hand. “that, kiddo, is one of many a trick up my sleeves.” He knelt to look them in the eye, red overpowering his vision. “you really shouldn’t trust strangers, frisk, chara, whatever name you go by.” He’d seen those names emblazoned on their soul(s). It wasn’t a hard jump to make. “don’t make the same mistake twice.” Sans stood and placed the barrel against their temple. “see you down the river, kid.” 

tick . click.  BANG .

* * *

Sans shot forward on his bed, shaking. “deep breaths, bud,” he gently reminded himself, massaging the tension out of his cervical vertebrae. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 10:47. From the invading sunlight, he didn’t sleep the day away. Good? 

A loud pounding on his door roused the skeleton fully. He glanced down at himself and swore. No time to change, and now his jacket was a wrinkled mess oh well. He quickly stripped off the outer layers of his clothes, leaving his black button up shirt slightly undone, kicked off his shoes, tugged off his tie, and carefully rolled up his sleeves, tossing the blue vest and jacket onto his bed.

Sans yanked open the door to his bedroom a bit harder than necessary, shouting “i’m coming already! stop!” at his front door. The slamming did stop, for about three seconds, starting up just as he reached the handle. He did not need this after the night he’d had.

Mettaton was standing outside, hands on his waist, looking down his nose at Sans. He didn’t need a user’s manual to figure what all the clicking and humming from the robot was doing. Finally deigning to speak, Mettaton clipped an “About time.” and fixed his hair. “Sans, Alphys is here for you.”

“great. why did you not send her up with a key?” Alphys visiting isn’t a new thing and often when he wasn’t awake Mettaton would just let her into his apartment. Something he’d complained half-heartedly about for a while. It was actually kind of comforting to know that there would be someone to check on him if he suddenly ‘fell down’.

“She isn’t exactly alone.”

That explained it. “‘kay. well i’m awake now. might as well tell ‘em. i’ll leave the door unlocked.” Mettaton looked offended at being used as a messenger already, but after several seconds of mechanical grinding and clicking, the monster-bot thought better of it and left. Fine by him.

Sans took a long look at his rooms. Messy was a nice way to put it, though if he was right about who came with Alph today, this wouldn’t be an issue. Instead he wandered into the bathroom and splashing water onto his dry eye sockets, dapping off the excess with a surprisingly clean washcloth, next turning his attention to his teeth. They weren’t quite so sharp, a good sign, and with a few satisfactory sweeps of a brush, sufficiently clean.

“S-S-Sans?”

“in ‘ere alph! c’mon in.”

He heard the door creak open and three distinct gaits, Alphys’s shuffling, Asgore’s or possibly Toriel’s longer stride, and a third that he couldn’t identify. Joy.

Meandering out of the bathroom, he tossed out a throw away line about not expecting company. The yellow dragon-monster just nodded, looking no worse for wear about it. It was Asgore, the ‘Monster King’ dressed in a specially tailored three piece, seemingly sheepish under Sans’s stern glare. The shyness didn’t stick around long, Asgore straightening as much as the apartment allowed, gazing back with a grim expression. He, at least, was here for business. The last was a human child he recognized. 

The one he’d just dream of killing.

They weren’t quite the same, no creepy second aura that he could notice. It seemed like this was the underneath layer, the one that signed. He let his gaze linger on the hiding child for a few moments longer, taking in their nearly identical appearance, though now they wore pressed shorts, white knee socks, and school boy shoes. Probably a white button up under their sweater.

“asgore.”

“Sans.” The mafia boss rumbled, glancing down at the child hooked on his ankle. “This is Frisk. Say hello child.”

‘Hello,’ they signed with some hesitation.

“Alph, the case is in my room, go ahead and get your cut while you’re here.” Sans slipped his hands into his slack’s pockets, feeling out the in between and his G-70, just in case Asgore did anything sudden. He just catches the kid stiffen. There’s a twisting feeling in his ribs. Was last night… not a dream?

“Sans, please know I don’t ask this lightly.” The skeleton returned his full attention to the boss monster. “Come home.”

He sucked in a breath, clenching his teeth together. Alphys took that as her cue to leave the room, and Sans didn’t blame her. “i don’t know why, but i thought that it just couldn’t be  _ that _ when undyne showed up at grillby’s. i’m wrong apparently.” He leans forward a little, grin growing forced. “how many of your people had to get nabbed before you told me about paps, about you  _ breakin’ out deal _ , ‘your majesty’?”

Asgore flinched. “Just one. Just Papyrus.”

“somehow, i find that hard to believe.”

“I won’t ask that you fight again,” Asgore raises his paws placatingly. “But, please, come back to stay this time, for your brother’s sake.”

Sans’s eye flared to life and he glare at the taller monster. Three years ago he wouldn’t have the restraint to end the threat there. Six years ago it wouldn’t be an idle threat. Six years ago… He didn’t want to think about it.

“you and i both know how involved paps should have been. i-if i thought he’d be better off with me, i never would’ve left him in the first place.” Sans dropped his gaze, glare slackening into a morose contemplation. 

Yes, he had left Papyrus with Asgore, because it wasn’t safe.  _ He _ wasn’t safe, even for his own brother.

“He’s always been better off with you, Sans.” The boss monster’s attempts at comfort were misguided and irksome but he clearly meant well by it.

“once paps’s out of the line of fire i’m gone, whether he wants to stick around is his choice, but i won’t be comin’ back after. ever.” 

Asgore nods.

“i mean it. packin’ up and shippin’ off to gods know where.” Sans mumbled to himself, tapping into the kitchen to start toast. Even if the kid didn’t know what they were talking about, Sans wasn’t going to risk an audience of any kind for his  _ talk _ with the ‘King’. Besides, his emotions weren’t being given a break and he needed time to cool off. That couldn’t happen until Papyrus was safe though.

With a quick sorting of his priorities, Sans broached the subjects that would come up soon carefully, going over his story with meticulous detail. The only monsters to know who ‘Charon’ was were himself, Asgore, Grillby, and Gerson, the old turtle. He hoped that Paps hadn’t put two and two together yet. It was common knowledge that Papyrus was related to ‘Charon’ though it was intentionally left vague. He just couldn’t handle having to explain things to his brother. He didn’t want to let Paps down… anymore than he already has.

Sans presses his carpels into the counter, staring at the toaster. Alphys has joined Frisk and Asgore in the lounge. He’s alone in his own home, even with company, brooding over his situation. His worry for himself makes him nauseous. Paps was more important, not him, Paps. 

“i’m such a shitty older brother.”


	3. Weird Wednesday Cont.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus just want to be loved and Sans is about to have a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr where I'm also posting this because I can! Yay!  
> (http://warcraftedtardis.tumblr.com/)  
> I've also got an ask blog open for this AU whenever someone wants to ask something of Sans. Fairly sure that I'm going to be done the intro plate soon...  
> (http://askthestyxau.tumblr.com/)

It was quite, aside from a steady dripping from a leaking pipe. A twinge of salt in the air, which meant they were being held close to the bay. Nothing could be seen with cloth tied over his eye sockets so he had to figure out their location with only those scraps of information.

Soft scuffs and slow breathing from nearby alerted him to the other monsters being held captive as well. Everyone was nervous.

Papyrus grit his teeth, carefully testing the restraints on his wrists again. Rope, knotted decently, but not well enough to hold him for long if he’d time to work at it. He must be strong. The others were counting on him.

The men guarding his fellow prisoners and himself were in the midst of changing duty, giving him a twenty second window to make some progress. If he could just reach the switchblade in his back pocket he could expedite the process, cut himself and the others free. Then, maybe send that letter to Sans. The one Toriel offered to deliver. Papyrus buried the twinge of guilt for not sending it sooner, choosing to focus on getting out of here in one piece. The tips of his phalanges were so close, brushing ineffectually against the handle. Just a little more…

“Hey, skeleton! Stop moving.”

_Shoot_.

Papyrus stilled himself again, awaiting the next change in four hours, boundlessly thankful that he’d been well rested. _Staying awake for extended periods of time has never been difficult before, why let it be difficult now. Just stay awake for another hour. You can do this_. He repeated those words like a mantra in his skull, broken only by the monsters near him shifting more.

“It’s okay Papyrus…”

“… we know you’re trying.” Dogmany and Dogaressa murmured from either side.

“Yes, I, The Great Papyrus, Shall Get Us All Free. Fear Not Friends.”

He heard a stirring of relieved murmurs from his fellow soldiers, counting fifteen at least, pride flushing through his bones only to be crushed down by one of the guards losing his shit laughing.

“Ya hear that boys? Bony here is gonna be the ‘hero’! Hahahaheh…” The human’s voice was approaching until they stood over Papyrus, a large gloved hand seizing his cervical vertebrae with crushing pressure. It wasn’t comfortable but knowing humans tended to be more violent when he didn’t react like they wanted, Papyrus supplemented a false choking sound. “Listen here ya little shit,” He had to force down the desire to correct the human’s confusion about their heights, and to shove a bar of soap in their mouth. “keep talking like that an’ I’m gonna make a pinata out of you. Maybe even,” the human seized his lower jaw and pulled. Hard. That did hurt, the grunt Papyrus made in response genuine. “get some monster candy if I hit ya hard enough.” The human leaned back, judging by the awful tugging changing angle on him. “I’m sure these fine gents would like to get in on the fun too, yeah?”

There was jeering laughter from the other humans as they either took their positions or moved off for their break, all made evident by the scuffing of shoes against concrete flooring. The one closest to the group of monsters, not grappling Papyrus’s skull, stalked forward with a low growl. “Lay-off, Ray.” The grip on his jaw vanished with one last violent tug. The sound of hard contact on someone’s chest echoed off metal and a softer surface. Crates, maybe? Were they being held in a warehouse? That would certainly narrow down their possible location from fifty to forty-three.

“Did you just fuckin’ shove me _boy_?” The man who had been harassing Papyrus rumbled dangerously, pulling the skeleton’s focus back into the building.

“Did you seriously forget our orders?” The other human bit back venomously. “What part of, ‘don’t hurt the captives’ was so hard to understand?” Their voice was accompanied by shuffling of fabric, like someone in a suit jacket just folded arms over their chest.

“Shaddup brat!” the first snapped. A burning crackle of magic erupted in the air.

It was deathly quiet for a while, soft distant gasps, a muffle gargling followed by the rapid panicked movement of someone’s legs through the air. The gargling grew more desperate and pleading. Not for the first time today had Papyrus wished he could see what was going on. Not being able to see had made using magic to dangerous in close proximity to allies he didn’t want to harm and sound in this space wasn’t the best for locating objects.

There was a loud thump, like someone being dropped to the ground, and heavy, ragged breathing. The scuff of someone trying to get their feet under them and a sharp thump of that same struggling individual being kicked back to the ground.

“ _Never_ disrespect me like that again, Ray, or next time I’ll be sending you off with a bouquet of white lilies and my condolences to your mother. _DO_ I make myself _clear_?”

“Y-yes.” The voice of the first human was rough and sounded strained.

“Good. As for you monsters,” the wieght of magic pressed in around Papyrus, “don’t even bother trying to escape. It was made clear that none of you are to leave until the child is returned to us. When your people make good on our deal you’ll be let go peacefully.”

Two sets of feet moved away from them and Papyrus found himself wondering what his enigmatic relative, Charon, would do in this situation. He’s heard many blatantly over blown stories about the mysterious monster but never had actually met them before. While Papyrus didn’t much mind the exaggeration, he knew it meant a lot was expected from him. That kind of pressure…

Sometimes he wished he could be as laid back as Sans; nothing ever bothered his lazy bones brother. Sans never had to worry much about anything. Sans…

He just wanted Sans to be proud of him; and maybe a little bit of him wanted Charon to be proud too, even though they’d never met, or perhaps because of it. Papyrus wanted to leave behind the kind of legacy he knew his family was capable of. He want to live up to expectations and then shatteringly surpass them. He wanted to beat every challenge ahead of him…

He wanted, so badly, for Sans to come home. To see that stupid grin again. To hear that deep fatherly voice lull him to sleep with a story like it used to. He even missed the scent of smoke that always clung to Sans suits. Sometimes he’d get a wiff of a similar smell but it was never quite as harsh or dusty as what wreathed his older brother.

With those thoughts running through his skull, Papyrus felt more determined than ever to escape. He would make Undyne proud. He would make Asgore proud. He would make everyone in Kingsmen proud.

He _will_ make Sans proud.

Papyrus grinned, fingers clenching around a handle in his back pocket. _Bingo_.

* * *

Sans glared, no glare was too kind a word… scowled?… glowered?… Yes, Sans glowered at Asgore. The three monsters seated in his den, Alphys and the ‘King’ on the couch with himself in his favorite armchair, leaned forward, hands folded in front of his mouth, elbows propped on his knees, glar- glowering at Asgore.

“you wanna run that by me again?”

“Toriel has requested that you help put together a strategy for our rescue mission, assist in evacuating prisoners, find a more honest means of in-”

_“the last part_ , asgore.”

The goat monster looked a bit sheepish, dropping his gaze to his massive paws and flicking his eyes over to the hall where Frisk was patiently examining some old photos on Sans’s wall. “Take care of the child.”

Alphys looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but here right now. Sans didn’t blame her. His mind running loops around this idea of taking care of Frisk, _at Tori’s request no less_ , and still running his business. Yeah, he thought morously, runnin’ it right into the ground.

“what’s the kid think about all this?”

“They, um, don’t know?”

What? WHAT? W H A T ? “asgore.” It could only come out as an absolutely stunned, despondent, and oddly paternally scolding tone that Sans wasn’t used to. At. All.

His ‘old friend’ flinched, “It’ll just be for a few days. To keep them safe an-”

“asgore.” Sans straightened and crossed his arms, his look shifting from indignant to disappointed. This situation was so reversed from just a few years ago. When had Sans, _Sans of all monsters,_ become more responsible than Asgore!?

No, it wasn’t just that, both the ‘King’ and ‘Queen’ know about his… problem. A fact that seems to have slipped their minds at the first convenience.

Alphys finally piped up, seemingly desperate to get back into the uncomfortable staring, glowering, match from before. “W-well, y-you ar-re good-d w-with k-kids, S-sans.” She looks about ready to pass out from fright when he glances at her. That, coupled with the dull itching in his bones indicated Sans at just how terrifying he must be right now.

“asgore, how did you think this was good idea!?” Sans cradled his skull in his hands, giving a worried glance at the hall before continuing in a low voice. “not only does the kid not know… it’s like putting a year’s supply of opium in the care of an addict and expecting him not to use it.”

Alphys gasped and Asgore’s expression went grave, gone with the soft, fluffy fasaide. “You’ve been clean for years.”

The dragon-monster scientist was looking from Asgore to Sans and back, a stare of terrified comprehension on her face. That’s right, she didn’t know he used to be a druggie, did she?

“you and i both know there’s no ‘getting clean’ when it comes to that stuff.” He felt cold as red magic seeped from between his phalanges, “it’s all a matter of when you last had a fix an’ how badly you _don’t want another_.” His gaze flicked back to the hall, emptiness eating into his marrow and soul. “what are you tryin’ to do ta me, asgore?”

“Sans, I’m sorry. I thought-”

“what? that i’m not still the fucked up kid you found all those years ago? that i’ve gotten over the shit i’ve done? the shit that he did to me?”

“That’s not what I was going to say and you _know_ it!” Asgore was suddenly on his feet, nerves clearly touched as flames splutter in his palms. Sans heard a startled thump from the hallway. The kid had been listening at least to the end of the conversation. He found himself sans the resolve to fight, leaning back into his armchair with a defeated sigh. The ‘King’ relaxed a bit but remained standing. “I thought that Frisk being here, that _anyone_ being here would _help_ you. Sans, you can’t keep isolating yourself like this, I’ve been down that road… it does not end well.”

Sans dropped his sight to the floor, suddenly very interested in a sock he’d not picked up for… how long ago was it again?

“Sans, please.” Asgore was kneeling in front of the chair, still somehow taller than him.

“i can’t make any promises, asgore. you know that… but if the kid is okay with it… i’ll _try_.” He flicked his glowing pupils to the hall again where Frisk was peeking around the corner, not even trying to hide anymore. They look confused, like they aren’t sure what the monsters were talking about. “i’ll go clean up the guest room, but no way am i explaining this to lord scrapmetal.”

Asgore smiled mischievously at him. “I’ll have Alphys do it.”

“W-w-what?” She sounded very panicked indeed. Sans almost felt sorry for her. Before any more discussion could be had, Sans slipped into the bedroom across from his own. He’d been using it for storage and he now had to figure out a new home for all of this. He began sorting, idling listening to Asgore’s soothing what was likely a panicking Alphys, or maybe the kid.

Sans jumped at a light tapping on the open door, wheeling around to see Frisk nervously shifting their weight just outside. He let out a heavy sigh. “don’t startle me like that kid.” He gives them a once over, making out a puffy redness in their eyes despite their squint. He briefly wondered if the kid needed glasses. “you’re pops already tell you what’s up, or were you eavesdropping?”

‘Eavesdropping,’ they sign, a scolded look on their face and Sans shook his head slowly.

“alright, mute, deaf (which don’t seem likely at this point), or prefer not to speak?”

They froze, hands twitching, before slowly they sign out, ‘I’m not mute or deaf.’

Sans gives a sharp nod, moving a box off the dusty mattress then giving the bedding a hard look. “hmm. anyway, ‘t’s your turn, kid.” He cast them a glance to make sure, they’re giving him a lost look. “ask me a question kid, or two. i did kinda ask two in a row which ain’t somethin’ you’re supposed to do…” He flicked three more boxes into the air, guiding them over Frisk’s head to land by his own door in the hall. All with magic of course.

They are staring at him in utter amazement. A broad grin broke out over their face, hands signing rapidly, ‘Can you fly?’

“hu? don’ know. never tried using the gravity magic on myself like that but i don’t think it would work out that well.” A broad grin spread over his face and he magically grabbed Frisk, lifting them into the air. They had stiffened in shock but quickly relaxed again. “i can make other people fly though.”

‘That’s cool!’ Frisk grins while signing. They look slightly upset when he puts them down but Sans wanted to avoid long term contact with the kid’s soul whenever possible, so having a living human’s soul in his grip again wasn’t the best thing right now.

“my turn then…” Sans was briefly distracted clearing out some objects into the in-between. “what’s your favorite color?”

Frisk gave him a look that just oozed ‘really?’ but still signed, ‘Blue and magenta,’ while gesturing at their sweater.

“welp, my room’s already blue and a guy can’t have two blue rooms… suppose this one will have ta be magenta then.” He shrugged just as Frisk’s eyes opened wide, showing off deeply red colored irises. It unnerved him but he played off the look of wonder instead. “yeah, i’m repainting the room. asgore and tori said it’d just be ‘a few days’ but who know when ‘a few days’ will be over? might as well get comfy, right?”

Frisk looks a little grounded by mention of Toriel, their gaze dropping to the carpet and hands wringing their sweater sleeves. Sans quietly grumbled to himself about how he would have to get used to reading Frisk as opposed to talking with them, though he quickly thrust that line of thinking aside. They weren’t so lost in thought not to freeze up when his shadow fell over them. “kiddo.” They started shaking at the seriousness in his voice. It only deepened that little pit of concern in his ribs.

He hooked their chin in his fingers and lifted their gaze to meet his. “sorry, didn’t think ya’d be homesick already.” Sans caught the reflection of his magic eye in Frisk’s own watery orbs, burning a sinister red.

Frisk looked about ready to cry, shaking like a leaf in the wind. This wasn’t homesickness. This… this was fear. Real, honest to God, fear. Fear of him.

They were afraid of him.

“your turn.” Sans hopped his voice wasn’t to dark from worry. For some reason, he blamed the broken jaw and DT warped features, he couldn’t pull off softer emotions very well.

Frisk’s hands shook. ‘Are you going to kill me again?’

Ice settled in his ribs. Oh. Yeah, he’d almost forgotten about that whacked out dream… fuck.

“nah, kid. not unless you give me a reason to.” He remembered the dust covered knife and high LV that human effigy parading around in a ‘Frisk suit’ had been sporting. It would be hypocritical of him to chastise the kid for killing anyone, but if they offed someone he knew, someone he’d cared about… He would show **n o  m e r c y.**

Frisk nodded as best they could with their chin still in his hand. He patted the kid’s head, trying to ignore the way they flinched. It drew him out of his own skull.

“sorry ‘bout the eye kid. that happens whenever i get all mixed up inside.” This really was his best, gentlest grin. Not terribly easy to pull off when his canines were still so pronounced. “it’ll pass soon enough. didn’t mean to scare you.” Thankfully his voice could be as gentle as he’d need in any given situation and it seemed like Frisk was relaxing again. He really hoped he hadn’t permanently messed the kid up.

They shrugged his hand off and quickly signed ‘Can I help?’

“cleanin’ the room?”

Frisk nodded.

Sans scanned the remaining boxes, flicking open the closet to see if any where hidden within. There didn’t seem to be any of the larger, heavier, or dangerous sort of items left. “sure. yeah i don’ see a problem with it but i think your pops might want ta talk with you first kid.” He tries to ignore the puppy dog eyes their giving him. While they’re surprisingly good at it, Paps did ‘em better. “i won’t do anymore till you get back, okay?” He extended his pinky to Frisk, “promise.”

They give him a scrutinizing look, accepting the gesture none the less and then bounding away into the apartment. Sans swallowed the lump forming in his nonexistent throat. This was _not_ going to end well.


	4. Nightmares Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night of Frisk's move in. Chara is being annoying. Sans's remembering a good time.

Frisk flopped down onto their new sheets feeling the full weight of the day press in around them. This apartment smelled strange, like iron and dust. They weren’t allowed in Sans’s room, nor behind a locked door at the end of the hall. It bothered them, the secrets Sans always kept. No matter what timeline it’s always the same. Distrustful, cautious, powerful, terrifying, all while masquerading as a lazy comedian. They wondered if this Sans had anything new to see. He was certainly larger than many other incarnations they’d encountered.

‘How many timelines have we gone through again?’ They sign quickly, knowing they are understood.

“ _ Hmm, I’m not sure. Guess I lost track after the one where monsters had to consume humans to survive. That was a while ago too. _ ”

‘I didn’t like that world. Sans was scary… and insane.’

“ _ Papyrus was nice, if not week. _ ” Chara’s voice echoed into the caverns of Frisk’s mind. They sounded board. It was never a good thing for Chara to be board.

‘I wonder how this one is going to turn out. He did already kill us once before… Do you think he remembers?’ Frisk paused, the images of that nightmare-like memory haunting them. Their hand traced the gunshot scar on their abdomen. The only Sans to leave a permanent physical mark. And he didn’t even use magic.

“ _ I don’t think so, or at least he doesn’t remember the whole thing like we do. _ ”

They rolled over on the bed, taking in a deep breath of the sky blue fabric. It was a little strange not staying with mo- with  _ Toriel _ or even Asgore. So often had their monster friends just known and lived together that for them all to be around and not constantly see each other was disorienting for Frisk.

They traced the different timelines in their head, reviewing the thousands of nearly identical lives they’d lead, some not lasting as long as others. They even married and grew old in some timelines. Frisk changed with each timeline as well to better fit the world. It had gotten so mixed up they didn’t know what sex they started as and for convenience, coupled with an entirely separate and equally fluid consciousness, the child went by ‘they’. It was thankfully something monsters just went with and often supported. Probably because biological sex had very little to do with anything for them. Humans on the other hand would always get confused.

The more they recalled about their seemingly infinite number of lives the more disconnected they felt. There had been many times where Frisk took their own life just to see what would happen. They found themselves in that dark place with a choice, start over in a new world or continue from the last sliver of time they saved. There was  _ never _ the option to give up, to stop. They were forced to stay determined…

Sans never seemed to understand that.

Frisk had to save them all, or kill them all. One or the other. Quitting wasn’t something they could do.

“ _ Speaking of killing them all _ … ” Oh boy. “ _ why don’t we start off with that this time, Frisk? It could be fun~ _ ”

‘No, Chara.’ Frisk frowned deeply into their pillow, ‘I don’t like doing that… Not anymore.’

“ _ Awww. _ ” Chara’s voice was mocking, grating, and Frisk needed a distraction.

As if cued by a cosmic comedian, Sans knocked on the door and pushed it open a crack. Frisk stared up at him, waiting. They could see the proverbial gears turning.

“i didn’t expect you ta sleep in here yet, kid. paint ain’t even dry. don’ think that’s healthy for humans.”

‘Then why is the bed made?’

Sans grinned a little wider. “well, ‘a procrastinator can get thirty minutes of work done in eight hours, and eight hours of work in thirty minutes’ and i’m a professional procratinator. ‘m also lazy. really don’ wanna get up and do it tomorrow when i can expend minimum effort to do it today.”

Frisk nods. They had expected as much. ‘Where’s Papyrus?’

Sans froze up, smile dropping like lead. “hu?”

‘I thought you two lived together. You’re brothers right?’ 

The look on Sans’s skull wasn’t readable. This was new. Frisk had to suppress the chills running up their spine from Chara. “ _ Something new, something new, _ ” they chanted in Frisk’s head.

“don’ ask about paps again, kid. that ain’t somethin’ i know anything about. he’s his own monster an’ he don’ live with me… not for a while.” Sans quickly shook his head, nodding briefly down the hallway. “take the couch tonight. paint’ll be dry in the morning.”

‘Can you read me a bedtime story?’

Sans sweated a bit, not meeting Frisk’s gaze. “maybe next time, kiddo.” He moved out of the door just as Frisk jumped off the bed. Sans was already closing the door to his own room, offering a stiff “g’night” before briskly shutting himself in. Frisk mumbled complaints under their breath while Chara was all too busy planning out what they could ask Sans for the next day. Right now, they just wanted to go to sleep.

* * *

Sans sucked in a breath, leaning his skull against the door as Frisk’s footsteps padded down the hall. Red tinted magic dripped down his phalanges into evaporating puddles on the floor. That was too close. They didn’t even notice.

He stepped back, letting the cold emptiness of the void close around him, eye sockets slipping shut. When he did open his eyes again bright drops of red danced about him like so many stars in the inky blackness of space. It was oddly comforting how they pulsed and shuddered through the in between. Sans wasn’t going to leave the apartment, that would be irresponsible, but he couldn’t handle being close to Frisk for an extended period of time. Smelling them just down the hall, feeling the buzz of their soul in his den… Nope. Not going to think about it.

Just, not going to… fuck.

“okay. something else,  _ anything _ else.”

Sans dropped the full force of his gravity magic on his own shoulders, compressing himself to the singular spot he inhabited. Whether or not his instincts were going to cooperate with him, Sans wasn’t going to chance Frisk getting hurt. Not on his dust. “distraction, distraction.” He muttered into the emptiness, not so much willing his magic into motion as trying to exorcise the DT polluted energy writhing in his soul.

The red lights turned into a black bubbling mass, condensing ever inward before melting out again, only to condense once more. A soul chilling laugh buzzed into being along with the warped features of one W. D. Gaster, Sans father, and his first victim.

“ **Ah? You really wish to revisit all of it?** ” Gaster’s voice crackled and warbled from the static of Sans mind. “ **What? Haven’t felt you sins enough yet? Do want to experience it again, your sins crawling down your back?** ”

“i need to remember. i don’ have a choice.”

Gaster looked briefly disgusted, biting down his demented grin. “ **I taught you proper english. The least you can do is use it.** ”

Sans grit his molars together, glaring at the effigy of his father, the stain that plagued him relentlessly. “i don’ care what you taught me.  _ you _ aren’t really here.”

“ **Must we have this conversation every time, Sans?** ” Gaster grumbled a sigh. “ **I tell you, I am rea-** ”

“no, we don’ have to keep going through the same lines over an’ over again. just show me what i need to see ‘lright.”

Gaster’s grin turned sour and then washed over his features a new. The darkness of the void was quickly replaced by a rush of golden light. He was once again in that long hall with Frisk standing at the other end, knife in hand covered in ash, that wicked grin on their face. Sans took one look at Reaper resting in his hand and bristled. His will shattering the image as he rounded on the figment of Gaster “ **n** ** _o_** _t_ **t** _h_ ** _a_** **t**!”

“ **Very well**.” Still the late scientist remained impartial in voice, the only displeasure showing in his cracked and melting eye sockets. The two uneven pinpoints of light glowed red once and Gaster laughed. “ **How about… the night you** ** _k_** i **l** ** _l_** e **d** **m** _e_ ** _?_** **”**

The void spun away at once leaving a searing pain in Sans’s soul. He blinked hard for a few seconds in a bid to collect his bearings. He was in a hallway, much larger than it should have been. Or perhaps he was shorter, not that it very much mattered. Papyrus was crying and Gaster, still in his lab coat and halfway finished his second bottle of Magic 5, was shouting obscenities at the infant demanding that he be quiet.

Gaster ripped Papyrus from the ground where he’d just been thrown and started to shake the childed. Sans had seen more than enough, his left eye burned with the fury rushing through his bones. He charged his father and shoved Gaster to the ground, using his magic to snatch Papyrus away from the intoxicated monster.

“What do you think you’re doing.” Gaster, stone cold drunk still spoke like a sober man, one of the oddities about his father that allowed the scientist to behave as erratically as he pleased.

“getting paps away from you. you’re drunk again.” Sans muttered the last part under his breath, notting idly how young he sounded. He almost didn’t recognize his own voice. “c’mon, let’s get you looked after.” He turned his attention to the terrified baby bones in his arms, teleporting a short distance away first so Gaster couldn’t grab him. He pointedly ignored all the threats his father hurled his way. Tonight this nightmare was going to be over. Tonight a serial murder, child abuser, and mad scientist would meet his end.

He set Papyrus down in his crib and rocked it slowly with one foot, reading out of Paps’s favorite story with his hands. The book was a bit big to just use one. Sans locked the door when he heard Gaster coming up the stairs, briefly thanking himself for the foresight of getting it reinforced. Gaster’s pounding did upset Paps a little bit, but as Sans drowned out the sound with his own bad jokes the littlest skeleton finally fell asleep.

By the time Sans felt it safe to leave Gaster was already gone. He checked a hidden panel in the hall. A little red light designated for Gaster’s hidden lab was humming away. It briefly occurred to him that his father hadn’t taken DT for quite a while. 

Gaster must be making more.

Another human, unwanted by society or just a run away, was strapped to that icy metal table, crying and begging while his father worked to prepare his extractor. Another human, shivering and screaming would have their soul efficiently ripped to shreds to feed his father’s appetite, his father’s addiction.

Sans’s hands balled into fists, quivering in impotent rage at his sides.

Gaster could threaten him. Gaster could use him. Gaster could hurt him. But not Papyrus. Never Papyrus.

Gaster had hurt Papyrus.

Gaster was going to  _ pay _ for it.

With a blink Sans was before the door to his father’s lab. Father… that  _ thing _ isn’t a father. It doesn’t have a right to be called a father. Not when Sans was only ever another experiment, a tool to make him more approachable and trustworthy to humanity turned into an object of convenience. Experimented on at the drop of a hat, beaten and neglected the second no one was watching. He thought he could live with it, move on. If it was just him as it had been… this word was bitter and cruel and alone. But then… Then Gaster made Papyrus too. Another son to show to the world. 

No one would suspect the illustrious, eccentric Doctor Gaster, the scientist, the family man, the loving father. What a sick joke. The punchline sucked. Sans found that little spark of purity in his fucked up reality. His little brother was the literal world to him. If anything happened to Paps…

Sans snapped his jaw open and shut a few times, contemplating his actions carefully. He would stand a snowflake's chance in hell going against Gaster openly. “calm down and breath,” he mumbled to himself. 

It was ironic that what Gaster taught Sans of fighting, of killing, was about to be used against him. That’s right, irony. Irony is funny, like the universe's sarcasm. A joke, think of a good one. Tell it to yourself. Punchline. Laugh. Smile. Go inside.

Screaming. Sans froze in the doorway. Gaster was hunched over a young woman in hysterics. The doctor pressing a needle into her forearm while she attempted to thrash against his grip and the restraints. She was crying, begging, “please don’t do this! I won’t tell anyone please!” Her naked body quaking against the cold metal. Opening the door had split light into the room. Gaster looked over his shoulder to Sans, they locked eyes. Sans tensed, ready to flee in seconds.

“About time.” Gaster groused, his voice cracking. He features were warping with his LV finally showing. All the DT he’d pumped into his body finally tapering off. He needed more that much was obvious. “Get over here and help me boy.”

Sans met the woman’s eyes, a nervous sweat breaking over his brow. This wasn’t the first time he’d helped Gaster and she knew it now. Her face was one solely populated by despair. His mind rebelled against the sudden sympathy pulling at his soul ‘ _ i’m not here for you! he threatened paps, i just happen to need you alive. _ ’

Sans shook his head quickly, pacing into the darkly stained yet sterile room. Gaster turned back to the woman and everything just clicked. His father was so used to his immediate surrender that his approach was assumed obedience. Sans grin grew sharper, his left eye glowing darkly.

The door clicked shut.

Gaster gasped.

Sans buried a sharpened bone through his father’s chest just right of where his heart would be. Glowing blue magic licked up his wrist, dancing between his fingers. He watched Gaster grip the metal table and stagger. His father’s HP was suppressed from withdraw. Gaster was weak, and Sans wasn’t.

His grin broadened.

“father, i have been wanting to do that for a long time. i hope you appreciate it.” Gaster turned to him, eyes glowing a wrathful red and Sans shot another bone through Gaster’s front. “i am not finished.” His voice growled out darkly, pacing closer to Gaster’s collapsing form.

The doctor attempted speech but only a thick black substance dripped from his mouth. Sans looked down at his maker’s smooth features and found that well of rage in his ribs, a tempest in his soul. And he was going to snuff Gaster out.

Gaster surged up to seize him. Sans blocking the assault, slamming his skull into Gasters before striking him in the face twice more and bringing the cracking scientist’s skull into his raised knee. It sounded a little deeper in pitch than a rubber band snapping.

This monster was easily two and a half times Sans size. It didn’t matter though, not when he was this angry, not when Gaster was this weak. He used his gravity magic, smashing Gaster into walls, the floor, the ceiling, bones he summoned… Then he spotted something to make this last longer, to get the full satisfaction of this violent expression. A vat of raw DT lay waiting to be fully filled, waiting for Gaster to finish this human. Sans gripped Gaster’s fractured skull in his left hand and half dragged, half magically threw Gaster against the metal.

“you have always viewed your work so highly, but i am another experiment as well, yes? a play thing for you?” He hoisted Gaster into the air and glared daggers at the monster, “have i made you proud, father? am i the weapon you have always wanted yet?”

Gaster rasped a laugh.

“no?” Sans slammed Gaster’s head into the metal vat again and again, shouting “how about now you sick fuck!”

When Gater’s only reply was an off kilter, mad laughter, Sans decided he’d had enough. “fine, i’m just going to have a good time then.” With that he gripped one of the bones protruding from Gaster’s back and shoved the older monster’s head under the DT. Gaster jolted and thrashed, not that he was drowning with lungs he didn’t have. No Sans was going about forcing an overdose. If Gaster loved DT so much, it could fucking kill him. Like hell if he cared. Gaster was down to only 5 HP, with the DEF boost this long dip would give Gaster, Sans could take his time and beat the shit out of his father ag nauseum.

It sickened him, but Sans knew exactly where the euphoric rush in his soul was coming from. Like it or not he was a part of Gaster. He was born to this. It felt so  _ right _ , holding down Gaster like this, crushing the skull in his hand while the raw red lights soaked into his bones.

The thing was, Sans knew exactly what DT did to a monster. He had Gaster to teach him more than he ever wanted to know about it, accept what it felt like. It itched in his bones, tingling through his soul. He felt stronger than ever before, like he could decimate an entire nation. It was just so damn amazing. Lightning in this joints. Rage in his mind. Red in his vision. 

Before he noticed it Sans had yanked Gaster out of the DT, smashing the crackling wheezing monster onto the floor. He summoned a thick bone in his hands, a club he raised and struck down with. Gaster’s own bones had the resilience to withstand a few strikes before breaking. The sound was like music teasing in Sans’s skull. He should be repulsed by this but damned if it didn’t make him feel so  _ alive _ .

Gaster had a sliver of HP left when Sans stopped beating him.

The large monster did his best imitation of sitting up, with a completely destroyed spine and ribcage. An insane grin still painted over his shatter skull, deep cracks running from either eye, nearly splitting his entire face in two. “Like father, like son… Heh… hehehehahahaha! Ahahahaha ha!” Gaster lost his mind a long time ago, but now all that brokenness fit together with his outsides just as broken, Sans truly knew how lost it was.

Sans grinned at him, leered more like it, and started laughing too. It sounded very similar, too similar.

“You’ve made your point, Sans. Very efficient of you.” Gaster tried to get his fractured legs underneath him. Sans growled, kicking him back onto the ground.

“we aren’t done, pops.”

“W-what?” Gaster stopped smiling

“ya think you can jus’ threaten my lil’bro and walk. away? no.” Sans leaned over his father his right eye burning ferociously, almost drowning out the heat in his left socket. “no.” He tugged out Gaster’s soul with an angered snarl. Gaster tried to fight his soul back in, but Sans was to… determined… to let it go. He held Gaster’s soul up to the broken face, fang-like teeth parting.

“N-no, wait! Don’t.”

Snap! Cruch.

Gaster screamed bloody murder, a static filled shriek that rocked the lab’s very foundation. Several glass objects burst from the multilayered sound. Then all was silent. Dust. Black oozing blood on the bone-club in his hand. A joke. The punchline. Smile. It’s funny.

Silence.

A gasp. Sans’s glowing eyes snapped to the cowering human woman. He’d completely forgotten about her. All the anger just washed out off his bones, leaving him feeling cold and empty. He looked at the red stained bones of his left hand and dry swallowed. ‘ _ like father, like son. _ ’

Sans looked back at the cowering human still strapped to the table. His club dropped, shattering into dust once it made contact with the tiled floor. His eyes spluttered out. Tears bubbled into the corners of his eye sockets and he sobbed.

Muffled Sounds. Silence.

“I-I won’t tell anyone… please, let me go.”

Stop. Think. Be rational. Gaster is dead. You killed him. There is a witness. This is a problem. Solve it. ‘wait, think of paps. you have to provide for him and you can’t do that if you’re running from place to place forever. even if she doesn’t tell, gaster’s sons will be missing. no one would ever stop looking for you. you need to disappear. forever.’

Sans sucked in a breath and forced himself to calm down. “no. you’re going to tell someone; tell them something very specific: gaster and his sons are dead, you don’t recognize the man who saved you but they were an adult human. gaster had drugged you so nothing else about what happened you can remember.” Sans closed the distance to the table while speaking. The woman nodded hurriedly. “my father’s reputation, burn it to the ground with the truth. i kept a journal in my room, under my bed in a floor safe, 33-25-06. it’ll help.” He unbuckled all her restraints. “your clothes have probably been burned so see if you can find something to wear. give me ten minutes to get out of here before calling the police, and if a word of what really happened here is so much as breathed to anyone,” Sans’s eyes burned to life, his voice deeper than it should have been for a twelve year old, “i will find you.”

Sans didn’t stop to hear her answer. It couldn’t help him now. Not with DT burning through his body. This was the night everything started, the DT addiction, the killing, Sans had gotten hooked on both in the same night. It only took two bites and there was no going back. Cannibalism and patricide aren’t things that can be taken back.

He pushed open the door to Papyrus’s bedroom, the little skeleton squirming around calling out his name in a garbled chirp. Sans froze, listening. Paps’s first words. He laughed lightly.

“hey, yeah. i’m right here bro. ‘s okay, i got you.” He reached down and scooped Papyrus into his arms, being sure to gather the red-silky fabric of Paps’s blanket too. “listen bud, we gotta scram, okay. take a last look ‘cause we aren’t comin’ back.”

Papyrus giggled and cooed, not really understanding anything that he was saying. That wasn’t as pressing as sirens in the distance. She didn’t even wait five minutes. That didn’t bode well. He had little choice but to trust in her sense of self preservation. 

“hold on tight paps,” Sans pressed Papyrus into his rib and they winked out of the room, to where, Sans didn’t know but it was as far from where they were as possible. A city by the looks of it. A dumpster, in an alley, in a city someplace on the other side of the country, with nothing but his wits and a baby bones. Well, it’s a start.


	5. What Happens Wednesday Night? Dark Dreams.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paps is sarcastic. Frisk has a nightmare.

Papyrus lifted himself onto his knees, moving painfully slowly just to be sure he didn’t catch the guards attention. The dog monsters flanking him scooted closer as he passed the knife over. With their situation still mostly unknown and a human mage to deal with things weren’t looking good.

Very carefully Papyrus shifted his wrist out of the rope and kept his arms by his sides. Humans weren’t very capable spotting subtle differences from a distance, not that he was any better close range but that’s beside the point.

Rolling his shoulders up, he eased the blindfold off his eyes. It was dark. He could see well enough, though color was nearly impossible to distinguish in such low light. It must already be late. The humans guarding them certainly thought so, mumbling to each other about how soon they were going to be able to sleep.

Papyrus grinned to himself. He was more than happy to help with that. A shift of his jaw and a tightening of his focus sent two small bones flying at them. They had turned just in time to see the attack but not nearly fast enough to react. A muffled thud cause the monsters around him to stiffen, all equally blind, before the men slid to the floor.

He stood and briskly walked over to the humans, dragging them fully into the room before hoisting them up on his shoulders and making his way to the back. There were a variety of large pipes dedicated to water running through the room. It seemed to be a gutted steel factory. Concrete walls, open beamed ceiling, and windows much to high to see out of. Scanning the darkened corners from what little detail was available, Papyrus spotted a large wooden crate left abandoned. He used a summoned bone to pry off the lid. It was empty aside for some remnant hay.

With a jovial ‘nyeh’ he dropped the men into the crate and placed the cover back on, pushing it to the center of the room.

The others, emboldened by all the noise he was making hurried in removing their bindings and blindfolds. They smiled at him and he bounced his brow bones, picking up some more intact lengths of rope. “Let’s Make Sure Our Friends Are Comfortable!”

Dogami barked a soft laugh and they all got to work, quickly securing the lid on with multiple winding of rope. With that done Papyrus peeked out into the dimly lit hall, searching for any human soul nearby. Seeing none, he pulled back into the room and laughed, putting one hand on his hip and the other straightening his tie. “NYEH HEH HEH! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE SECURED US A WAY OUT!”

“Lead the…”

“..way, Papyrus.”

The dog couple gravitatied to each other, hooking their paws together and nuzzling after being kept apart for a while. Papy smiled gently, looking over the other monsters with no shortage of concern. Most everyone were injured, himself one of the few acceptions. He’d have to fight if it came down to it, though he sincerely hoped no one else would be here so late at night. It would be naive to proceed so boldly.

“ALRIGHT EVERYONE, No Speaking Unless We Have To, Alright?”

The Kingsmen nodded and he tapped a black gloved finger against his eye socket. It was a code Undyne frequently used, meaning keeping in groups of six, two fighters and a look out. Everyone clumped accordingly and they moved out of the room with himself at the head of his own group. Using the trick Sans had taught him to scan for any movement. It wouldn’t help against someone who could hide their soul’s glow or had a soul to week to be seen through walls, but those conditions were rare.

He kept his pace slow, being sure to signal the column to stop every once and a while to focus more intently on his search. There were other humans in the building but they were easy to avoid. They must be in the residential areas of an old factory judging on how many bedrooms they passed. An exit should be close, it was just a matter of picking one that was relatively unprotected.

As the monsters padded softly along the winding hall, Papyrus formulated a detailed map now that he could finally see again. He had a fairly good idea of where they were, not far from the city if they needed to make a break for it. It wouldn’t be long until they were home free and he could mail that letter.

Just as Paps let his hopes up a familiar crackling pressure shot down the passageway, sealing shut not more than a foot ahead of him with a pulsing, off-white shimmer. The magic coated the hall and closed at the rear of the column, effectively trapping them all in a barrier. A slow, patronizing clap sounded just ahead. Rounding the corner was a man of average height and unassuming build, clean shaven, business casual dress, raven-wing hair with piercing blue eyes. He smirked at them.

“I must say,” Paps immediately recognized his voice. “I’m impressed.” He lazily held up Papyrus’s switchblade, open point down, between his thumb and middle finger.

Paps crossed his arms and belted a laugh. They had been caught, security would get more rigorous. He was so close to getting everyone out, annoying him to no end how such a simple mistake had cost them. “MY BROTHER ALWAY DID SAY THAT I’M A WILY ONE. SO, HUMAN, DID YOU ENJOY THE GREAT PAPYRUS’S JAPING?”

“Yes,” the man’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “It was highly entertaining but there will be no more of that on my watch, thank you.” He flicked a wrist towards the passage he’d come from, armed footsoldiers stepping out into the hall, each one leveling a rifle at a monster in the procession. “Go on then, back to your cell.” The mage made a shooing gesture and the barrier shuddered, rolling down the hall and forcing the monsters into motion, with the exception of Papyrus who had the barrier close in behind him once it started moving.

The skeleton monster was had, well and goodly had. Trapped in his own little cube of space. “Hmm, HUMAN, WHY IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS IN A BUBBLE?”

A sickly, bemused grin passed over his features. “Because you’re a troublemaker and troublemakers get special treatment.”

“WOWIE! THAT SOUNDS FUN!” That did not sound fun at all.

-

It turns out that special treatment was more of the same but just alone with his own personal anti-monster barrier. Well, that’s one way to make someone feel wanted, tie them up a smidgen on the tight side, blindfold them, lock them in a room, and devote a large amount of magical energy to them. Not step one in the dating manual that’s for sure. Oh, there was also a knot of cloth stuck between his teeth and secured to his skull rather forcefully.

So there he was, gaged, bound to a chair, blinded, in a lonely little white room with not even a knife, just his wits. The nostalgia was palpable, though he could do without the gag.

With the increasing hopelessness of his situation, Papyrus found his mind drawn to his brother yet again. The perpetual, lazy grin. The way Sans always slumped his shoulders to seem as impassive as possible. The smell of iron…

His consciousness dropped like a rock. Seemed like two days of forcing himself to stay awake really drained his seemingly boundless exuberance. Who knew. Must be that he’s stressed more than usual.

Sans occupied his drifting thoughts and his current situation being so familiar, Papyrus found himself dreaming of a memory. How old was he, ten? Perhaps younger. Either way it was before his brother had his final growth spurt so they were nearly eye socket to eye socket, though Sans had much broader shoulders at that point.

His brother was reading his favorite story to him. They were sitting on the couch of their tiny apartment, Papyrus resting his head on Sans leg. His gaze tracing aimlessly over the wood paneling Asgore had put up for them some time ago with his mind enraptured by images of a fluffy rabbit fighting back against meanness with polite concern and friendship. The story was nauseously idyllic but compared to the life Paps had inklings of, the life Sans hid from him, they could use a little love and friendship.

Especially today.

It was the anniversary of something very bad and this time every year Sans would be grumpier than usual, often avoiding him with work most of the day. This time though, Sans seemed to be making progress, staying close to his side all morning. Sans even fixed breakfast and it was a rare thing for his older brother to be awake before noon!

This relative calm was nice, held in place mostly because he wasn’t feeling well after breakfast. Standing made him dizzy, sitting left him green-bone with an upset ‘stomach’, and laying down settled into a low head ache that was the most tolerable of all three positions. In an effort to combat this, Sans rubbed his bony fingers over Papyrus’s skull, rumbling the story along soothingly.

He passed out after that, blinking awake in a panic at not being able to see. Papyrus was upright, still feeling somewhat woozie, arms and legs stiff. Of course he tried to move only to find his arms tied expertly behind him and his ankles, knees, and waist all secured to a creaky wooden chair. He didn’t recognize the smells of this room, though it was horribly dusty. Papyrus called out for help.

Sans came.

“hey, bro ‘s okay,” Papyrus felt the brush of Sans hand over his skull. His brother was standing over him while he attempted to hyperventilate without lungs. “shh, shh. you’re okay. nothing bad is happening. just breath, ‘lright?”

Papyrus forced himself to calm if only a little bit. For some reason the deep thunder of his brother’s voice wasn’t very soothing, if anything it made him panic more. He couldn’t place why. “B-Brother,” he did his best imitation of a whisper. “Why Am I Strapped To A Chair? Where Are We? W-What Is Happening?”

“...”

He heard rather than saw Sans lean down next to him, an arm wrapping around him in a light hug. “heh, sorry bro. i don’ mean to scare ya… but i need to know you can handle yourself. i got lots of unsavory friends an’ even more enemies. ‘cause you’re my bro, you’re gonna get caught in the crossfire an’ you ain’t a baby bones much anymore… so i need you to work with me here paps. c’n ya do that?”

“I-I Don’t Quite Understand But… I Think I Can?”

Sans pulled back a hand lingering on Papyrus’s shoulder. “good… now, there’s a knife in your back pocket and you’ve got all the smarts ya need. i want you get get out of these ropes.” Sans’s grip tightened at a lull in his rumbling. “i can’t be in here to help ya, i can’t even watch. i’m not gonna leave ya. just outside the door.” Sans let go and stood, his heavy gait quickly making his way to the exit.

“Brother, Wait! P-Please!” The anxiety and fear rushed up Paps’s bones and he rattled with it. Tears pricked at his eye sockets. Realization slowly dawning on him that he’d been drugged and Sans had been waiting for him to pass out. Waiting for the opportunity to do this. It scared him badly at the thought of what Sans could be capable of doing to him.

The door opened and quickly shut, a soft thud of Sans leaning back against it, and a second thump his older brother sliding to the ground.

“Brother! SANS! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME IN HERE!” Papyrus strained against his bindings, leaning forward desperately as if it would help. He called like that several more times, each consecutively more desperate before he realized that nobody was going to come.

That was followed by the silence, and in that stillness he could just make out muffled sobs from the other side of the door. He wasn’t going to get help. Papyrus thrashed so hard against his restraints, he didn’t know how long his struggling twisting lasted.

It didn’t feel long but he must have fallen asleep again.

A soft rapping came from the door, judging by the sound it was maybe five or so feet away and to his right. “heya, paps. you awake there, bud?”  
“YES,” he croaked out the word, not feeling nearly as cheery as before.

“okay, good.” He could hear the flinch in his brother’s voice. “listen, some of those pals i was talkin’ about earlier decided to show. i locked the door ta make sure none of ‘em got to ya, so… jus’ hang tight i guess while i… um… _entertain_ them.” The shift of cloth, like Sans turned away, his voice being harder to distinguish further evidencing that. “i believe in ya kid. you can do this. you’re the great papyrus after all, right? ‘someday i’ll be even better than you’ remember?”

He did remember. It filled him with determination.

“don’ give up. ever.” The air felt heavy with the buzz of magic. “an’ paps, don’ listen now, okay?”

“O-OKAY!” He bussied himself again with the rope, more deliberate and less panicked, like solving a puzzle. One step at a time. Inch by inch. He _can_ do this. Sans believes in him. His fingers find the knife and with some careful shifting he managed to get it in hand. Paps pulled lightly, trying to find the weakest section, deliberately slicing through it.

The air buzzed and crackled, the pressure from behind that door growing intense. He didn’t want to hear the crunch of breaking bone. The sharp scream that cut off into a barely audible gurgle. His brother snarling laugh, “next.”

No, he didn’t want to hear this. He simply chose not to, switched off his magical senses, leaving him limited to the tactile abrasiveness of the rope. It took a few minutes of careful sawing but he’d gotten through his second tie, pulling his hands apart and turning the knife to his waist. Papyrus had just pressed blade against braid when a large bony hand covered his.

The young monster jolted, not having a voice to cry out with, as the knife was taken from his hand. Each of his remaining restraints snapped off briskly. The hand over his moved up to the blind fold and gently pulled it off in the same moment he turned his senses back on.

It was Sans, kneeling in front of him, smile forced but still there. An odor of burning hair and seared flesh struck him next and he recoiled from it, scrunching up his zygomatic as if he’d a nose. His gaze quickly found the knife in Sans hand, his brother had cut him free.

“I Didn’t Do It…” He mumbled into his lap

San’s fingers hoisted Paps’s chin up so that they were looking eachother in the eyes. “nah, bro you were fantastic.”

“How Can You Tell?” Papyrus looked a bit more hopeful as Sans grin became sinceer.

“ ‘cause these are ‘bout some of tha cleanest cuts i ever saw.” His brother held up the rope that had been around his wrist and shook them lightly for emphasis. “c’mon, paps, let’s go home.” Papyrus gave into the emotional storm he’d just gone through, latching onto Sans’s waist as his older brother carried them away with magic.

* * *

Frisk blinked quickly, scrunching up their eyes at the bright light streaming down on them. Golden flowers brushed against their temples and tickled at their shoulders. A stab of panic ran up their sides and they shot off the flower bed. Thick subterranean scents clotted the air by their head. ‘Chara,’ they signed with irritation, ‘what happened?’

Silence.

Uncertainty twitched their fingers, ‘Chara?’

Nothing. Again.

Frisk swallowed gazing critically at their surroundings. The Underground, just as it was before. Their meeting with Flowey would determine what kind of world this would be. They felt out the scar on their stomach, still there. Their clothes were also the same. It unsettled them deeply. Frisk opened their mouth and hummed experimentally. “My name is Frisk.”

They blinked, their voice sounded foreign to them. Smooth and childlike. It certainly wasn’t broken and discordant like Chara’s, nor stripped from so many screams. They were dreaming.

The ruins were empty, Snowdin Forest was likewise. A pervasive emptiness settled in their gut. They hurriedly scampered through the underground coming to a stop at a strange grey door. They had never seen this in all their runs.A grey door, yes sometimes but not _this_ door. Distress antique wood rising out of the swap, connected to nothing yet a soft warm light trickled through a crack along the bottom. Waterfall shimmered with soft blues reflecting what light was cast upon it, and they reached for the door handle, curiosity snatching at their consciousness.

Their soft hand brushed against the handle as an angry buzzing static drilled into their brain. Frisk cried out, unable to pull their hand away. Some force kept them in place, driving the buzz deeper into their skull. It hurt and tears burned in their eyes.

“heh. you think i regret doing that? **ha**!” Sans’s voice rumbled from the other side.

Frisk seized their wrist and yanked against what held them as the static bubbled up with a snarl. Red, the color of Frisk’s souls, slowly bled into the door. They cried freely as the color, the determination, was ripped from them. “ _Frisk_ !” Chara’s shout felt fuzzy and distant. “ _Frisk wake up! You’re dieing!_ ”

“oh no, you do **not** get to bring up papyrus!” The static hissed mercilessly in their mind and Frisk screamed. Anony burned into their palm sending muscles spasming up their arm, down their back, and worming into their legs. Frisk just wanted it to stop, but it refused, settling as an intolerable itch in their bones. Waterfall flickering in and out of existence as their consciousness wavered feebly. A large swath of the door had turned red and their vision spun in monochrome and blood.

Thoughts, feelings, ideas poured into their head. The didn’t belong to Frisk, nor Chara, nor any monster Frisk had ever known so deeply before. Stills of Time stabbed into their eye sockets burning horror in their mind. They saw people, corpses piled twenty high at the end of a warehouse being incinerated by an unknown blast; another of a woman naked and strapped to a table, crying and begging not to die; yet more of battlefields so numerous that they blurred together, each coated in that common red. Perhaps most horrible of all was a consuming hunger that tore through their tiny body like a firestorm through chaft. It pooled into their soul, biting through them like a worm does an apple.

They were going to be devoured by this _thing_ , and never reset again. Fisk felt resigned to this… erasure of self…

Just then the door ripped open, Sans glaring down at Frisk, _both_ eyes glowing rings of blood red fury. The skeleton had cracks running over his skull, coming down the corner of his left eye socket and upward from his right, fracture on his nose, jaw, and a clear break showing off long misshapen roots of the his left canines and chin. It warped his normally lazy grin into a terrible snarl.

“k _i_ **_d_ ** , **s** **_t_ ** _a_ y   _o_ **_u_ ** **t  o** _f_ ** _m_ ** **y** ** _h_ ** e **_a_ ** **d**.”

The glow burning forth from Sans’s eyes lit the darkness. It was just them standing on either side of the door to… somewhere that cause Frisk’s brain to sputter and fail, in a tiny patch of Waterfall that had yet to be swallowed by the blackness that was darker than anything Frisk had ever encountered before. The skeleton’s presence was not a relief, no where close. Sans lunged a hand for their throat.

Frisk jumped clear off the couch and slammed face first onto the shag carpet. Everything ached. Everything.

“ _Oh my god Frisk!_ ” Chara practically screamed in Frisk’s head. They hadn’t felt Chara panic before. It was new, but not the good kind of new. Frisk was shaking and gasping for breath as they struggled to push themselves off the floor.

Kneeling, halfway recovered, Frisk pulled their soul out and stared at the soft vibrant heart. The cracked remains of Chara’s soul affixed to theirs pulsed feverishly. Their eyes widened, transfixed by a large grey gash straight down the middle, darker red coating the edges of the wound like coagulated blood. They shuddered, Chara’s words zipping through their mind.

‘I-I…” Their hands were shaking too violently to sign and their voice rasped badly when they tried to say something, unable to even form a syllable.

Sans walked into the room, looking haggard and angry. His white pupils shrunk when he caught sight of their soul. “damn.” The skeleton shook his skull like he was shooing a gnat away. He dipped his hands into his pockets and forced his gaze to Frisk’s paled face. “sit.” Sans nodded to the couch and Frisk struggled onto the velvety upholstery.

He closed the distance and Frisk felt rather like a rabbit trapped between a hungry wolf and a stone wall. Sans hand reached out to their soul and they flinched, watching as the skeleton’s fingers cup the air around the damaged heart without touching it. Blue magic caught Frisk and they were left pinned and trembling as Sans examined their soul intently.

After a few tense second Sans pushed their soul back in sending a cold tingle up their spine. “you’re gonna be fine, just rest for a couple days. there’s gonna be a scar though.” Sans eyes didn’t leave Frisk’s sternum, clearly keeping his gaze on their soul, though his shoulders were stiff and the smile forced. This clearly made them both uncomfortable.

Frisk dropped their hand into his line of sight and signed, ‘what happened?’

“you used magic unconsciously and tried to reach out to me, probably a nightmare or something triggered it. instead of just waking me up like it would anyone in the apartment… ‘cause i wasn't in the same… dimension, i guess, you tried to pull me here.” He straightened up and sighed. “ ‘s my best guess anyway.”

Frisk blinked up at him, absorbing this predicament. ‘I saw a grey door, it was new so I tried to open it… There was static and your voice… it hurt.’

Sans took a long suffering sigh and patted their head. “okay kiddo, you can tell me about this in more detail later, right now we need to get you breakfast, ‘lright?”

Before they could respond Sans moved off to the kitchen tossing a, “i only know how to make quiche,” over his shoulder. Frisk rolled their blanket between their hands and stared down at their chest uncertainly.

‘Are you there?’

“ _Always_.” Chara seemed to be calm now.

‘Do you know what happened. I feel like Sans isn’t telling us the full truth.’

“ _Honestly_ ,” Frisk had the image of Chara shifting their weight, gazing down in an attempt to disguise their storming emotions. “ _I have no idea what happened. I heard you call me but you were… disconnected… you couldn’t hear me calling back._ ”

Frisk didn’t like the sound of that. They considered their hands for a moment before continuing, ‘I saw Sans. He… He was…’ They gave up on trying to describe it, instead closing their eyes and pulling that terrifying image back into their mind.

Chara shuddered against their soul. “ _If the smiley trash bag looked like that back in the underground I doubt anyone wouldn’t take his threat seriously._ ”

‘would you have taken that last step?’

“ _With that face glaring down on me… probably not_.”

Yet another thing this Sans was hiding. That brief glimpse of him, his LV… Frisk forced their shaking limbs to still. Sans needed a lot of help. They thought of helping him. It filled them with _determination_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://warcraftedtardis.tumblr.com/image/143963270614 is a picture I did up of Sans when he fairly pissed off. Not quite as pissed as Frisk sees him but it's to give you an idea...


	6. Of Monsters...and...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk and Sans hang for the day. Alphys pushes Sans's buttons. Undyne is Undyne.  
> Muffet gets flirty, bold, and Sans is done with her sh!t.  
> Moment ruined.

Sans sat Frisk down at the kitchen table halfway through cooking breakfast. For some reason, he didn’t feel… anything in the child’s presence. Was it because of their damaged soul or…  _ that _ . He wasn’t sure either way, and aside from Frisk very nearly dieing, it wasn’t so bad. His shoulders didn’t ache under an unreal pressure, there was a bit of bounce in his step. Sans wasn’t exhausted at all despite a lack of sleep that just yesterday would have left him completely out of sorts. It was nice. Peaceful even.

All because of Frisk.

He smiled morosely to himself while pouring the child a glass of milk and sliding it over the table top into their waiting hands. They thanked him and his grin actually reached his eyes. Sans knew the day couldn’t continue like this. His life would never be so… simple, so mundane. So… calm and soothing. This would not last. He steeled himself for that one something that would entirely ruin his mood. Though he silently crossed his fingers it wouldn’t be Frisk. They had already started to grow on him… somehow.

Sans found himself blinking slowly at the stove top. What had he just been thinking! He’d know Frisk for all of a  _ few hours _ and they had already gotten him to drop his guard. What!?

The skeleton pensively shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets, taking a moment to realize he’d not changed clothes for nearly two days straight. Not the best of ideas, but seeing as he didn’t produce sweat or oils the same way as humans and had been doing relatively little with his magic… No that was bs. He’d been doing a lot of magic the last few hours. Changing outfits was a priority this morning. And a shower. Nice and hot. Yeah. 

Frisk gave a startled squeak when the stove buzzer went off. It was probably louder than it needed to be but Sans did have a few instances of falling asleep while waiting for something to cook. That stove buzzer was one of the few things that could wake him. Didn’t want to burn the apartments down or anything.

He chuckled, flipping the oven front down and just plucking the pan up. The human gave him a wide eyed stare and he shrugged. His carpal bones had been so thoroughly abused that it didn’t much matter how hot something was if he was only holding it for a few seconds. It’d feel uncomfortable sure, but if he didn’t hang on the heat would reach his marrow, the part that could still really hurt; he would just shrug it off. Besides, he was too lazy to buy oven mitts.

With a few quick slices he plated a good sized piece for both himself and Frisk, reminding himself to do dishes later and lock the knives somewhere out of the little human’s reach. Not that he didn’t trust them but… he… kinda  _ didn’t trust them _ . That darker determination clinging to their soul set him on edge just thinking about it. He couldn’t deny it was there as even a relatively unobservant monster would notice the difference in shade through that grey gash.

Sans shoved those thoughts aside with a grin and dropped a plate in front of Frisk, fork balanced somewhat precariously on the edge. They took a bite, nervously at first, but each subsequent chomp was more enthusiastic. It was easy to tell they were feeling better. At least Tori would thank him for taking care of them, though how to explain the gash. He could alway play dumb like he’d done before, but that probably wouldn’t go over well. Tori knew him too much to fall for that.

He put a forkful in his mouth, teeth unfusing in the center to allow his jaw rotational movement. Frisk had stopped eating and stared at him bugged eyed for the second time the last few minutes. Sans kept his gaze evenly back, grunting a “what?” before Frisk pointedly returned their eyes to the food before them. He huffed lightly. It alway did freak people out when he ate. Whether from the fact that food just kind disappeared when he swallowed or that he was spontaneously changing the structure of his face, Sans had no idea. It certainly didn’t help that he had to focus on making a tongue just so the logistics of chewing worked. It was a pain. He much prefered a liquid diet but there are only so many things one can feed through a meat processor that’ld keep an appetizing taste.

Sans had gotten through a good three fourths of his quiche when his front door emitted a strained cry followed by rapid pounding. Frisk nearly jumped out of their skin. “heh. rattle your bones, kid?” They glared at him. “i’ll get it, don’ worry.” Sans begrudgingly grunted, making his way down the short hall from his kitchen to the front door. He actually hurried a little as it seemed the door might give under the force being slammed into it.

Sans flung the door open, not even flinching as Undyne’s fist nearly collided with his skull in her enthusiastic ‘knocking’. “sup.”

She really did look like a  _ fish out of water _ , eye wide and her mouth hanging open slightly. Sans quickly let his jaw fuse back together and she blinked at it a few times before collecting her composure.

“Ngh! SANS! Asgore told me to come get you. We’re having a meeting about the extraction plan and he wants you to be there.”

“sure. where and when?”

“Erh. The old hideout and now.”

Sans paused, mulling things over. He couldn’t leave Frisk on their own, Napstablook would be able to keep an eye on them be he didn’t trust the ghost fighting abilities in case something did happen. Not to mention if something set him off - and it undoubtedly would- he wanted to be somewhere not so… haunting.

“Tell Asgore, Grillby’s at nine tonight.” 

Sans moved to close the door when Undyne slammed her palm against the wood, forcing it to stay open. “WHAT!” She thundered, leaning down to glare at him in the eye sockets. 

Sans sighed. Yep. This was going to be the thing, wasn’t it. “if you got a problem with that take it up with tori. ‘s her kid i’m keepin’ an eye socket on.”

Undyne bristled, still able to somehow overcome her hair gel. Sans then noticed that she was wearing a suit this time and seemed much more her speed, though it did little to hide her amazonian physique. Yet she still growled out a low, “Fine, but you’d better be on time.” 

He grinned smugly as she stalked down the hall, glowing spear sizzling in her clenched fists. He’d no doubt that if Asgore hadn’t talked her down after their first encounter she’d be trying to skewer him. Sans much preferred not to be a skele-bob anytime soon though. Antagonizing her wasn’t such a great idea but it sure was fun.

Sans turned back into his apartment only to pause. Frisk was peeking around the corner of the kitchen door, only to suddenly jolt with a guilty look on their face as they met his eyes. “heh. ya gotta stop eavesdroppin’ on conversations, kiddo.”

The nodded, avoiding eye contact. ‘Are you going somewhere?’

“not till the end of the day, when you should be in bed by the way. paint should be dry so you can sleep in your room if it’ll help with nightmares.”

Frisk bounced on their toes a little, seeming to consider something. ‘Can I go too?’

“nope.” They looked about to complain when Sans kicked the door shut and strode up to them, hands in his pockets. “i promised your folks ta keep ya safe, that means not letting ya stow away into mobster meetin’s.”

‘They aren’t even my real parents…’

That actually surprised Sans, his bow bone shooting upward. Frisk looked like they immediately regretted saying that but at the same time something deeply sorrowful crossed their face.

“kid. tori and asgore chose you. ‘s more than i can ever say for my pops.” He placed a hand on Frisk’s shoulder, not quite sure where he was going with this. “i could go my whole life and never miss my father once, but i would always regret not meeting asgore, even if it wasn’t under the best circumstances…” He let his hand drop. “ya get what i’m sayin’?”

Frisk noded quickly, finding something fascinating in the floorboards.

“good, cause i had no idea.” That gets a snort out of them and Sans gently corrals Frisk into the living room. “either way, i gotta get more presentable for later and no, you’re still not coming, don’ even try that look on me.”

‘Read me a bedtime story at least!’ Frisk’s signs were quick and fluent. Sans let the request rattle around in his skull, though from the determined look in their eyes it was more likely a demand.

“fine, just one. but, y’know… at bedtime.”

Frisk bounced in excitement and gathered their things, dashing around him before he can get a word in edgewise. They had already disappeared into their new room. He chuckled, moving back to his own room to gather some fresh clothes. This little ball of energy just brightened everything around them, hu? He wondered idly about how much light would rub off on him, shaking his head.

\--

“... the end,” Sans mumbled, closing the book in his lap, and peered over the rim of his reading glasses at Frisk. They always seemed to be squinting so in the low contrast of darkness it was hard to tell by their face their state of consciousness. He deemed the even pulses of their soul and slow, steady breathing that Frisk was indeed asleep. Sans sighed, stood with a slight creak in his abused joints, and quietly shuffled out into the hall.

Alphys cleared her throat from the living room causing Sans to chuckle. “be there in a sec, alph. just got some last minute things.”

“A-all right. I-I’ll w-wait here t-then.”

He checked Frisk’s door, making sure it was latched and tried to balance his volume not to wake them. Alphys wouldn’t ever speak loud enough for her nasally voice to disturb anyone. “hope ya didn’t get too dolled up for this, alph. ‘course undyne i’ll be there, so…” Sans hobbled into his room, letting the thought trail off just to get a reaction. Alphys actually rushed up the hall to stand in his doorway while he innocently selected a cool sea-blue tie that matched the suspenders he picked out earlier. Sans decided to keep everything else in muted greys, pants two shades darker than the jacket which was two shades darker than the shirt. It blended nicely with his bones anyway. Plain black loafers should be plenty. Not going to bother with a suit vest this time, either.

He just finished looping his tie around, watching the yellow dragon monster red faced and stuttering in his mirror. Who’d ever guess that Alphys of all monsters could glare so intensely at anything other that her science fiction novels. She finally settled on grumbling, “Y-you’re h-horib-ble, S-sans.”

“hmm, i most certainly am.” His words were absent minded, instead trying to come up with Undyne’s reaction to seeing the doctor in a warm colored polka dot sundress. It had been specially tailored to her of course. Very few monster could match draconic proportions. He hoped she didn’t have to spend much on it. Any human tailor he went made him pay double for a suit that fit his shoulders and he was actually human-shaped.

With one final tug and tuck Sans turned to face his supplier with a teasing grin. “how do i look?”

Alphys paused, she to seemed to have been lost in thought, though probably not of Undyne as she hadn’t returned to a flushed and stumbling wreck as per usual. It made him nervous. “Sans,” he flinched at her decided lack of speech impediment, “what happened?”

“urh, come again?” A slow chill creeped up his spine at the clinical look she was giving him. Alphys was in business mode and that boded poorly. Very poorly. Poorly, in fact didn’t do justice to how quickly this situation could turn if what Sans thought had actually occurred last night.

“You haven’t made a pun yet, you’re actually smiling for real this time, and you  _ cleaned _ .” She pressed forward a little with each word, voice dropping concernedly. “Sans, I haven’t seen you this… productive… since you were on DT.”

And there it was. Fuck. His smile dropped like lead- he could practically  _ hear _ it shatter on the ground- and his eye sockets narrowed. “i haven’t, alph.”

“Y-yes but what you said bef-”

“dt doesn’t make someone productive. it kills them.” Sans let his gaze fall to the ground, an itching he’d been numb to all day worming its way into his marrow. “you’d  _ know _ if i had any… but then…” He paced past her into the hall, “you’d be dust.”

Why couldn’t there be one day where he didn’t have to shove someone away, shut someone out. One fucking day! Was that to much?! Just. One. Day.

Sans snagged his coat from the hall closet by his front door, a coat he hadn’t worn in ages. It still fit like a glove. There was still some dust clinging to the maroon fabric but with his other creased and in need of a good cleaning, Sans was out of options. He plucked the matching hat off a nearby stand and turned to Alphys slowly walking up behind him, a pained look on her face.

“sorry. it’s just a touchy subject.” He turned back to the door and opened it, holding there for Alphys to proceed out. “asgore was right. the kiddo’s been a big help. a lot a guy can do when not in a depressive slump y’know?”

“S-sans, I-i’m s-sorry I br-rought it u-up.”

He let a short grunt. “no hard feelings,” Sans rumbled, offering Alphys his arm. She looked at him skeptically. “what, i know a shortcut and it’s easy ta get lost.”

Cautiously, she nodded, wrapping her short arm around his elbow and gripping the sleeve with one clawed hand. 

“hang on,” his blue eye flashed to life,” an’ close your eyes”

\--

By the time Sans stepped out of the in-between at Grillby’s, Alphys had a death grip on his arm, head clearly spinning off its axis. He forgot that people found his prefered method of transport… disorienting. That being said he didn’t have internal organs to scramble in the first place so… Don’t think about that one too long, Sans. You’ll make yourself sick.

He shook his head once to fling the thought away, eyes tracking the crowded speak-easy for faces, souls, that he recognized. Toriel and Asgore were the easiest to spot. They’re a good head and shoulder above nearly everybody else. Grillby wasn’t hard to find either being, rather literally, a glowing personality.

He felt Undyne’s glare more than saw the fish-monster, while trying to coerce Alphy’s claw into disengaging from his forearm. From somewhere in the room Sans detected the rasp of the old turtle Gerson, though couldn’t spot the geezer through all the other young-blooded monsters milling about. Asgore had a veritable army here tonight. Grillbz was sure going to thank him for the business, then likely smack him with a bottle later.

With a dino-tile no longer attached to him, Sans made his way over to the crowd’s edge, leaning back into the wall. Asgore’s rumbling voice called the gather to order. All the monsters collected towards the center around a table, not that Sans could see it from where he was slouched.

“As you all know, we’ve been acquiring more land, expanding our territory. It is a hallmark of success to be sure, however it has made us none too shy on enemies.” Asgore paused, sweeping his gaze over the monsters gathered before him. “Our enemies have made the mistake of bartering with our friends’ lives. Something they will learn soon enough. For now, with the help of The Informant, we can retrieve our comrades in short order.”

The Informant was one monster that everyone knew, but no one spoke of. She had ears and eyes everywhere, and coincidentally ran a small bakery downtown. “Alright, deeries, listen closely.”

Sans didn’t listen closely however, though he knew he should be. His mind kept wandering, pulling himself deeper into his own skull. He didn’t know what it was but he just got a feeling, a very wrong feeling. Like he was being watch. Yeah, there were a lot of green-horns hanging around, doubtless some of whom were staring at the skeleton they’d never seen before, but that wasn’t where the feeling was coming from.

It… It was almost a burning in his chest, shortness of breath, throbbing ache in his non-existent eyes. What was that?

His mind chewed on that sensation for a bit. Almost like he was back in that house, in that dark room, a needle stabbed into his sternum. Or maybe like that time he was in an alley, his first real job. He’d been clipped by a bullet on the right cheekbone, but right before the gun was fired at him, he was staring it down… That feeling… Dread. 

But no, this wasn’t quite dread, nothing close to fear either. It just ached. Worry was too gentle a feeling compared to this… whatever it is. His hat slid farther down as he stared at his shoes. To the untrained eye it may seem that he was asleep, especially given his lack of pupils at the moment. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Muffet finish her bit, exchange some pleasantries, and slide up next to him. She slipped one hand into his suit pocket to pluck out a pack of cigars. Sans immediately looked up at her, open his mouth slightly to say something, when she stuffed one into his teeth. A grin touched her purple colored lips. “A little spider told me you’ve got a new toy?”

He glared at her, shifting the unlit smoke to the side. She wasn’t done her little spiel yet, but that feeling flared up in his ribs. A long diagonal burn over his chest, sharp and unforgiving, settled into his marrow. Muffet hummed, upset but not showing it from his lack of response. She was going to poke the bear, wasn’t she. The Informat always poked the bear.

“I’m envious, Sans, such a cute little thing you’ve got back home. I’d love to have such a determined soul around too, if I were you.”

“what are you on about now?” Sans grunted at the arachnid whose beaming smile twisted slightly, never a good sign. A set of her many arms slid between his coat and suit jacket, fingers dancing down along his spine, effectively hugging her back against him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was flirting. This was just how Muffet behaved before sliding in the knife. He was prepared for her antagonism at least.

“Hmm, I’m sure you know that,” her voice dropped into a heady murmur, “Charon.” She whispered the name lustfully against where his ear would be.

He sucked in a breath, the feeling of her hands compressing into his ribs only adding to the stab of panic that hissed through his soul. His jaw clenched around his unlit cigar, practically cleaving through the wrapping. Muffet took notice of this, twisting her body and sliding her fingers teasingly down to his hip with a giggle.

“I bet you’re just  _ dying _ to sink in your teeth, hu? Never trust a revenant after all.” 

Sans let loose a warning growl from deep in his chest, bristling. “i don’ like humans sure, but i do follow orders, tori’s orders.” It had been a long time since he followed anyone’s orders, though taking care of Frisk didn’t feel like an assignment, not that he would turn the kid away now even if it was.

Muffet gave a teasing laugh and leaned into his side, pressing the curve of her spine against his arm. “Oh, yes~.” she cooed, voice turning malignant, “and look how that turned out.”

“frisk ain’t a fix, muffet.” His voice was a throaty snarl that he knew rumbled through her. “their tori’s kid an’ i respect her too much to let my old shit hurt them.”

“Says the assassin that enjoyed torturing and devouring the humans he killed.” There was an unspoken thrill in her voice that sent a crawling up his back. Though it could have just been one of her spiders.

“charon’s dead, muffet. dead and buried. let the deranged bastard lie.”

“If Charon is really dead, then what are you doing here? Going to sharpen your fangs on human flesh again?” She probably thought he didn’t notice her hand tracing into his pocket. “Or, are you going to abandon everyone, _abandon_ _Papyrus_ , all over again?” Her fingers brushed the edge of the in-between where he kept Reaper; he felt the ripple through his magic causing his hands to tense. Ballsy little spider thinking she could steal his gun, thinking she could use his past sins, Frisk, _his brother_ against him. Hell. No.

Sans had it up to his parietal bone with with her, shoving himself off the wall to let the handsy spider monster stumble. He gave her a languid grin that would be none too threatening was it not accompanied by his burning cyan eye and a protrusion of his canines. Muffet didn’t balk under his gaze so much as shrugg up her shoulders and glare warily back.

“next time you want to see my gun, ask. i’ll be more than happy with you  _ staring down the barrel _ .” He pointed a finger gun at her with his left hand, and chuckled as darkly as he could manage.

Muffet paled slightly, arms wrapping to her sides, yet a fang filled smile still plastered over her face. He let his arm drop and glared at her for a few seconds more when a large hand brushed his shoulder. Asgore stared down at him with a patience Sans could never muster himself.

He nodded to the King’s unspoken request and allowed himself to be lead away. The center of the bar had been converted into an impromptu war room, replete with table map and board pieces. Grillby flickered about collecting glasses and pouring out more alcohol than water. Sans passed the elemental a nod which was returned with a crackling pop.

Grillbz was in his  _ element _ that’s for sure. He was glad for the fire man. The same could not be said for him however. Asgore kept on his right, and aside from Toriel, Undyne, Alphys, and Gerson he didn’t know a soul at the meeting. They didn’t know him, aside from whatever they knew of Papyrus, and he could see it in the way their eyes searched him. Must be strange that such high level old timers like Gerson, and even the leader paid him so much respect. Speaking of the old turtle, he shuffled over to Sans’s left side and clasped an arm on his shoulder, staring him down like someone about to make a dare.

“heh, good ta see ya, too.”

Gerson nodded, beaming at him. “About damn time you came home.”

“ger, i’m no-”

“I won’t hear it,” Gerson grunted at him, giving his shoulder a quick shake. “Let an old man have his way will you.”

Sans felt his grin dip a little, his mind flickering back to old memories that should stay buried, the ache in his ribs. Ah, his head was running off without him again. “i never have before, why start now.” He tugged his arm gently from Gerson’s slackened grip and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. His gaze fixed to the table yet he wasn’t seeing the map. He was seeing… that cracked and oozing face. Vats of red life, cold metal, razor scalpels, blinding lights, and the scream… oh gods the screams rattling through his skull. They never left. Never let him be.

Sans’s jaw seized up, his features briefly buckling into that sharpened horror, eye sparking. He needed to get away from this, these thoughts. He finally saw the board, saw the carved figure of his brother and everything snapped into clarity. Cold in his bones, fire in his eye, death in his voice. “but… whoever took my brother is in for hell.” He sensed a shudder run through the younger monsters and leered at the map. “ _ i’ _ **_l_ ** **l** **_m_ ** a _ k _ **_e_ ** **s** **_ur_ ** e  _ o _ **f i** _ t _ .”

“Sans,” Toriel placed a paw on his shoulders, flinching back like he’d burned her, which had very likely been the case. “Please, don’t do anything reckless.”

Like a spell, the soft prodding of her voice ripped him from the darkness and all his magic spluttered out. It was like popping a balloon, he just… deflated, features returning to their smooth cartoon roundness. “whew. thanks, tori.” He glanced nervously to Gerson who was gazing back with a small measure of sadness. “sorry, got lost in my own skull there…”

Toriel noded and replaced her paw on his shoulder. “It happens to the best of us.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Undyne effectively bulldozed the moment, slamming her open palms on the table with an ecstatic grin. “That was so FUCKING COOL! SANS, WTF MAN!”

Yep. Bulldozed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nearly done the first plate for the ask blog thing... yeah. Sorry this chapter took so long coming, my internet is wonky at the moment. There might be some mistakes but hopefully I caught 'em all.


	7. ❄☟☜☼☜ ✋

  **[R** _e_ ** _d_ a** _c_ ** _t_ e _d_** _]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ask some question?  
> (http://askthestyxau.tumblr.com/)


	8. Nightmare Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk has a drug-less acid trip at night. (A VERY BAD TIME)  
> Trigger Warning for Suicidal tendencies.

 

They shifted, feeling the cool sheets between their fingers. This wasn’t where they fell asleep was it. They didn’t feel right either, hollow and stiff. Frisk blinked open their ... eye sockets. What!

They shot up, moving despite all lack of muscle tissue. The room they were in was a soft grey with monochrom furniture and accents. The bedding was silk and their clothes, which were not _their_ _clothes_ , were cotton.

Examining their hands, Frisk could pick out every bone of the fingers, wrist, arm, and elbow. Patting their chest gave a muffled bone on bone thump. Yep. Skeleton. Seriously, what?!

“Chara?” Their voice was different, or rather not their voice at all. It had a deep reverberation to it, a hum that couldn’t be produced by a human. They gave themself a harder look. A simple t-shirt in light grey, and dark grey shorts. Somewhere in the back of their mind they knew the clothes should be in color. It struck them then. The room was pitch black, no light anywhere. They were seeing without light. But... how and what was going on?

They swung their legs over the bed and stood, -The floor was cold; they could tell that through the sensitive bones of their feet, but they didn’t feel cold. If that makes any form of sense.- making their way to the door. Frisk swung it open and met a hand just about to knock. The hand was skeletal, as was the arm, and shoulder, and the rest of the monster it was attached to. Papyrus, comparatively short, stood their looking rattled and pale. Though how these distinction could be made was beyond Frisk. 

They knew the onesie Paps was wearing should be orange, but it appeared a deep grey. Possibly because the lack of light extended into the hallway. It was wood paneled with the royal insignia towards the ceiling every five feet. While Frisk wanted to explore the house, their attention was drawn back to Papyrus who had started to actually rattle.

“Papyrus, what’s wrong?”

The smaller skeleton sniffled. “I Had A Nightmare.”

Frisk fought back a sigh and stood aside for the babybones to come in. “Want to talk about it?” Papyrus had offered that to them over the many resets more than once every time they had a nightmare. It seemed only fair to return the same. Papyrus shook his head, opting to latch around their waist instead.

“Can You Read Me Another Story, Just Until I Fall Asleep?”

“i can do one better,” the voice Frisk had been speaking with offered itself without their admission. “ya can sleep with me if it was really that bad, okay paps?”

Papyrus nodded into their ribs. “I Would Like That, Brother.”  

No, it couldn’t be. W-where they...

Frisk didn’t have time to finish the thought. They were hit with something, like a wave of bloodlust sweeping through their mind. Uncontrolable. Black pooled in their vision and the scene before them melted into nothingness.

They were standing in a void as themself again looking around in a disoriented panic. No up. No down. Nothing to pinpoint direction but the horrible sense of vertigo replacing the bloodlust. They closed their eyes to wait out the waves of nausea. Just as they were settled Frisk heard the same static-like buzz from earlier, that strange dream they almost died from. A  voice accompanied it, many voices actually. Different people, shadowy grey-scale figures slipped by Frisk carrying on conversations that had nothing to do with each other. Humans, monsters, some still yet indiscernible creatures passing away into the nothingness.

One bumped passed their shoulder and the world around them briefly exploded into color. “ _ \- so then I said, ‘that’s not any of your business,’ and she got really angry with me _ .” It was a man, human, adult, but his face was blurred beyond recognition. A similarly blurred figure walked next to him. They were passing a side alley someplace Frisk didn’t recognize though it felt like they’d seen it before.

“ _ Oh shit man, look. _ ” The other image spoke, flickering like a candle in the breeze. It pointed at the alley and Frisk could just make out the shadow of a short stocky skeleton child, curled up somewhat, crying silently. “ _ Hey little kid, are you alright. _ ” The second figure walked over quickly and knelt down next to the child. It was Sans. No doubt in Frisk’s mind.

“ _ i’m sorry. _ ”

“ _ What do y- _ ”

The image was cut off as a soft whizzing bone shot past Sans from the darkness of the alley. The first man tried to run but was struck in the back of the head, collapsing in a heap at Frisk’s feet.

A voice to warped to understand floated out from the dark brick passage and Sans flinched, rising to his feet and trudging over to the fallen image. From here Frisk could see the dead blackness in Sans’s eye sockets, the plastered on grin, and the prickling of tears that couldn’t be bothered to fall. 

In that same moment the empty stillness descended on them, choking and stifling them until they were left floating underwater and gasping for air. Every breath pulled in water. It was agony but they couldn’t seem to drown. Something snared their hands and feet, suspending them upside down somehow. Through the murkiness they could just make out Sans’s face, contorted in pain. A deep set snarl in his features. They tried to blink away the stinging in their eyes. Sans blinked to. They paused, thrashing against their bindings. Sans moved the same way without even a miliseconds hesitation. They slammed their hands against something that left like glass and the image of Sans shook. They were seeing thing from the skeleton’s perspective somehow. That would make two out of three dreams. It can’t be a coincidence.

“ _ Would you look at that! And here I thought all monsters could drown. _ ” It was a gruff voice of a man, the sound of which sent a flush of rage through Sans’s bones and Frisk became a passenger to his muffled, water roaring. Through it all the skeleton’s mind kept working and Frisk could follow a play by play of his thoughts like listening to an aside.

“fucking oneway mirror bullshit! when i find you, you’ll be in for a bad time. geriatric warthog-faced buffoon.” Sans slammed his bound hands into the glass again, hoping it would crack.

It only insisted a laugh from the old drug dealer. Sans had a mental image of an obese man in his late seventies, smoking a cigar and wearing an expensive silk robe in shades of onyx and maroon. Needless to say it wasn’t flattering. “ _ Don’t bother with that. Street filth like you might as well learn some manners and since you don’t seem capable of drowning, I think it prudent to let you stew on your faliure a bit longer. I don’t know, say eighty years as a decoration for my cigar room. I’m sure the boys would love you. _ ”

“heh. that’s right keep yapping away swine, it just makes it easier for me to find you.” Sans closed his eye and Frisk felt removed from the pain suddenly. It felt like someone just switching off a circuit. No more energy running through their senses. Only their ability to hear was left. Sans went completely still, even dropping his breathing behavior.

“ _ What? _ ” The man flustered. “ _ You died already! But I didn’t even finish gloating! I still need to find out who you work for. Wake up damn you! _ ” A loud thud shuddered the glass from their right side.

“got you~” Sans switched back on their eyesight just in time for Frisk to see a deep red tint explode over the right tank wall. Like this it was easy to tell the dimensions of the container and Sans stabbed a magic bone clear through the two feet of space. Judging by the direction the dark red tint was dripping they were really upside down. When the magic dissolved, water poured out leaving the dark dress clothes clinging to Sans’s bones as he carefully maneuver the switch blade from his pocket.

The more subtle sounds not suppressed by the glass anymore, Frisk could make out a pitiful rattling gasp and Sans grinned at his reflection with a mortally wounded human on the other side. “never fuck with a revenant, human. i hate your guts but i can respect your cleverness, so i’ll tell ya who sent me; asgore dreemurr.”

Sans’s voice was met with a desperate gurgling. The skeleton laughed, teeth ripping apart into a jagged grin.

“looks like i won’t be hanging around.” The bindings on his hands snapped. He dipped his hand into his pocket. Frisk knew what was coming and they didn’t want to see it. “might as well get a snack before i leave though. i’m thinking... bacon.”

Mercifully they didn’t have to see the end. The gun report echoed through their head and they found themself back in the darkness. They were almost thankful for it; the return of the static-like sound in the sea of moving figures all keeping distance from them now. Apprehension of another vision swam behind their eyes and Frisk gave into it.  

As they looked about, the static popped twice in what might pass for someone clearing their throat. Frisk whirled around on their heels, only momentarily considering the fact they were somehow on solid ground, to face the source. A tall, broken, and leering skeletal figure bent over them, sinister in every respect; even down to the sharp white glowing pupil in his least damaged eye-socket.

“ **You aren’t who I was expecting, child.** ” The buzzing voice send a ripple of pain through Frisk’s ears and soul. “ **Care to explain how you got here?** ”

“I-I’m not sure of that myself.” Their voice at least was back to normal.

“ **Hmm,** ” the creature rumbled, pulling a long claw like finger over its smooth chin. The sharp appendage was then jabbed at Frisk’s chest while it chuckled. “ **Perhaps it has something to do with this.** ” Their soul glowed forth in brilliant shades of red, the grey standing out like an ugly scar over the surface. The creature’s eyes flashed red briefly as it stared deeply. “ **Fascinating.** ”

“What,” Frisk swallowed the fear in their voice and forced their confidence up. This was a break from the continuous delvings into mind bending dreams. “What is so fascinating?”

It cackled, a horrible snapping, ticking sound, like any second Frisk’s eardrums would burst from the pressure. They flinched, recoiling from the noise. “ **You do not know who I am, do you?** ”

Frisk did have a vague recollection of something like this creature before, they could not recall it, nor did they think they’d want to, so Frisk shook their head slowly. They wrung their hands as the living darkness laughed again. Its body melted out of the darkness, oozing and falling apart just as it was pulled together.

“ **Haha, ah. Maybe you will find out if that information you gleaned was any indication. You ought to be more wary around Sans, child, He is not what he seems.** ”

“I know that he’s strong.” Frisk refused to meet the creature’s eyes, recalling in that moment every genocide run they had ever done.

“ **Oh, but strength is but on part of the riddle before you.** ” If it were possible the thing grinned wider at them, cupping its holded hands over its misshapen chest. A soft, barely perceptible white glow filtered out from between its hands. The soul it cradled was fractured, scared, and nearly shattered in some places, but what caught Frisk’s attention the most was a long diagonal slash of red seeping from within the soul. It was a red they were intimate with, determination. Their determination.

“W-what is... Who is that?” Their hands clenched as a tingle of icy dread pulled up their spine.

“ **You know who this is. Remember?** _ you’re gonna have a bad time _ .” The creature’s voice warbled and warped into one oh so familiar. The void was washed in golden light, they were standing at the end of a hallway. Dust clung to them, choking them every time they went to inhale. Sans, the first Sans,  _ their Sans _ , stood in their way, glaring at them with a glowing cyan eye that flashed gold every few seconds. Frisk went to take a step forward but froze. How many times had he warned them not to take that last step.

They could feel their sins crawling down their back and it made them sick. Tears stung in the corner of their eyes and they shook their head. The knife in their hand, it made their head spin. Frisk threw it down in disgust and rounded on the darkness behind them. There it stood leering in delight at them while they tried to keep it together. “Enough!” Their voice was stronger than they thought it would be.

The creature looked taken aback, still cupping the monster soul like it was something precious yet incredibly dangerous. It did not speak yet the static burned against their mind relentlessly.

“Stop it.” They clamped their hand over their ears to cut out the sound, the memory of what this thing was saying, what it was implying, and squeezed their eyes shut to block out the vision they were plagued with. No more. Never again. “I’m never going to live through this again. Stop showing it to me, I don’t want to see!” The tears could not be suppressed and the sobs refused to be stifled. “Not Sans, not again.  _ Please! _ ”

“heh. kid, no need for that.”

They slowly opened their eyes to gaze back at Sans. His smile seemed nervous, confused even. He seemed to be glancing around for someone that Frisk could see but he couldn’t. It was... not just a dream? Their eyes flicked back to the creature’s demented grin.

“ **Not existing has some perks when it comes to magic that shouldn’t be possible. I should warn you though; with the state your soul is in you cannot reset. If you are killed, you will stay that way,** ” something vile twisted into its smile. “ **and Sans too, will perish.** ”

They gasped and began to shake. Frisk was back home, in their version of reality, the one they were from. But... They returned their gaze to Sans. His stiff posture and snarling grin all the reminder they needed of what had happened. What they had done.

“I’m so sorry, Sans. I never wanted this.”

“that’s not too convincing from where i’m standing, kid.” The skeleton shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets it was his cue for the spiel, for the start of the fight. All Frisk had to do was take that last step forward. 

But they refused.

“It’s a beautiful day outside,” Sans’s eye sockets widened in surprise. If this really was the first run, the first world, then it only made sense that this was a surprise. “Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming. On days like these, kids like me... ,” Frisk paused, their eyes on the knife. Did one more dead Sans really matter if they could end everything right here and now. If they can’t ever reset again, does that mean they can finally die? Finally just end it all? They bent forward and picked up the knife, Sans stiffening in their peripheral vision. Their hands shook and they took a steadying breath. The dust covered steel was cold against their neck. One sharp pull would be enough to slit their own throat. It would be easy enough. They’d done it before.

“what are yo-” His voice echoed slightly.

“should be burning in hell.”

Time seemed to crawl at a snail’s pace. Sans reached out a hand, sudden realization on his face but he wouldn’t be able to stop Frisk in time. Their throat would be slashed beyond repair and no one would even try to heal them. The edge just broke their skin when a strong bony hand seized their wrist like a vice. Another hand seized their shoulder and began to shake them violently.

“what the hell kid!”

Frisk blinked slowly up at Sans. The crack in his jaw looked larger from this close as did the subtle fracturing along his nasal cavity. He was glaring at them; it wasn’t anger in his glowing pupils, but concern. Concern and fear. He coaxed Frisk’s knife wielding arm down to their side just as a tiny rivulet of red slipped over their yellow-tan skin. Their face was damp with tears and their eyes itched and burned.

Frisk looked past Sans at the kitchen. They were standing in the golden tiled room with the startlingly loud stove at their back. A drawer were Sans kept knives rested open to their left with the dimly lit hall to the right.

They blinked again and looked at themself. Pajamas. Specifically an orange onesie that they recognized but couldn’t place. It was one that Sans had lent them when they admitted to having none before the bedtime story.

Sans’s bony fingers lifted from their shoulder and pulled their eyes back to his. “don’t cha  _ ever _ scare me like that again, frisk.”

They nodded, swallowing thickly and let the knife clatter to the floor. No power in the world could stop their rush to hug Sans. Sure, he was bigger, scarier, and gruffer than the first Sans they’d met, but the love was the same. The gentle voice, the caring sigh, the way he held Frisk to his chest, rumbled a soft song, and soothingly brushed fingers through their hair.

They could feel another presence too, pushing in behind them silently crying. Chara. Chara was crying too. Frisk didn’t understand it. They did understand one thing, that smooth, cracked, skull leering at them from the hall was not just a dream.


	9. Wake of the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus is plotting sweet, sweet revenge and Sans is trying to be a good parent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm? What is Undyne doing? What da heack is up with chapter 7. So much. Just so much in the near future (I hope). Srry this chapter isn't that long. I have too many projects and not enough time. :(

Crack!

Papyrus’s head whipped to the side as pain ricocheted over his jaw. They hit him with a pipe. Right in the jaw. He crushed down an infuriated roar rumbling out of his ribs. It petered out in a low “nyeh heh heh” that only aggravated his broken bones more.

The humans growled at him, obviously mistaking his whimper for a laugh, not that it didn’t suit him that way. If Papyrus were being completely honest, he was afraid. No, not just afraid; he was fucking terrified. Down to a sliver of HP and he could feel how fragile he is right now. All because of that  _ fucking mage _ he’s so goddamn  _ helpless _ . This was not the legacy he wanted to leave behind. Papyrus wanted nothing more than to impale all of these bastards, rip them limb from limb. An eye for an eye socket as Sans would say.

Oh gods, Sans. He was permanently at one HP. Is this how it felt? Even the slightest bump might shatter him. The younger brother had an epiphany of respect for his brother; respect colored by pitty, yes, but respect nonetheless. If Sans could be strong in a position like this Papyrus could hold his own too. And he damn well will. He let out a laugh with more bravado, projecting his voice in spite.

“Somethin’ funny bonehead?” The human who struck him bristled, lifting the pipe up again in preparation to swing.

He locked his teeth together to minimize the damage to his mandible, glaring up at the goon who smashed him. One of the two he’d stuffed in a box. Fucking peachy. He put on his best grin despite the throbbing ache and just let his magic do the talking instead of moving his mouth around too. “You’re Going To Have To Hit Harder Than That, Human.”

“Don’t.” The mage finally spoke. Peachy lowered the pipe begrudgingly, grumbling. “So, you don’t want to cooperate, Papyrus?”

He scoffed a “Nyeh” and turned to look over his shoulder.

“We’ll do this the hard way then.” The mage, who had been pacing in circles for nearly an hour at this point walked up behind Papyrus, placed both hands on either side of his skull -forcing Papyrus to look ahead-, and channeled bolts of magic through his fingers.

Papyrus didn’t have enough mental preparation for  _ magical torture  _ on top of everything else. He screamed, furious, bloody murder. The fool who’d been wailing on him with a lead pipe stumbled back at the inhuman cacophony, clapping hands over his ears. It wouldn’t help any, though Papyrus did take some form of sick satisfaction that his torment was giving the humans hell too.

The mage pulled back gasping, far more sensitive to the agony of a soul ripping through the air. The skeleton sagged forward against his binding, gulping air like it would actually help. All Paps succeeded in was making his ribs more sore.

“Ha, seems we won’t be getting anything out of you today, monster. You must be so proud.” Papyrus’s new mage ‘friend’ leaned forward to snarl in his ‘ear’. “Don’t worry. I’ll break you soon enough.” His skull was yanked back and a rough blindfold reapplied. The door to his cell had open when Paps let a hollow laugh. A long sliver had been etched into the mage’s soul like a hairline fracture. He had seen it.

“I Look Forward To You Trying, Human. Next Time, I’ll Be Louder.” He coughed haggardly. “I Wonder What Can Last Longer, My Will Or Your Soul.” The door clicked shut and the tall skeleton hummed bitterly.

_ Didn’t think I noticed that crack, did you human? I’ve got more tricks up my sleeves than you all know. _ Papyrus flicked his wrist, magicly gripping the instruments of torment they’d been using on him. Specifically the bone saw. He’d have to be very careful, but he would be able to cut his restraints this way. Who knows, he might even have enough time to set up a trap. Wouldn’t that be lovely. Ah but what kind. Right now, Papyrus decided he was in the mood for a classic, the bear trap.

A devilish grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. Alright, maybe not one so... violent, but it would definitely keep the mage in place for his ‘japes’ later.

“Nyeh Heh Heh Heh... NYEH HEH HEH HA HA HA!”

Oh, Sans would just love the idea that popped into his skull. Hmm, but what to do about the barrier?

* * *

Sans held them tightly, his breathing deep and slow. Frisk recognized it as his ‘thinking’ breath. Not the best of signs, they thought. Chara had stopped crying and adamantly denied having an emotional break down. So, very Chara.

Frisk kept their eyes on the hall, on the leering skull staring back at them.

“ngh. kiddo, you smell like blood.” Sans pulled back, avoiding direct eye contact with them while he lifted Frisk up to sit on the counter. They were just shy of eye level with the skeleton now, really registering how tall Sans was compared to other timelines. Well he was just bigger in general. 

They flinched when a cold cloth came in contact with their neck. Sans pulled their chin up slightly so he could clean it more thoroughly. He looked like he was about to say something when the apartment door slammed open and Undyne stormed in.

“What the hell bonehead! Why did you just vanish like that? Uh, wait, HOW did you vanish like that?!” She paused mid tirade to observe what Sans was doing, her eyebrows shooting up when he rinsed the dark hand towel in the sink. Her mouth opened and shut for a second, gaze resting fully on Frisk

“this, undyne, is why i didn’t want to have the meetin’ sooner.” He patted their knee and Frisk turned their eyes from the lingering Fish monster, to Sans. “i’ll go get ya a bandaid, ‘kay?”

They nod curtly. 

Sans moved to the door only to pause when his foot taps against the knife. He let out a long sigh and stooped to pick it up. “this was one of my good ones too.” The grumbling wasn’t really directed to anyone but still weighed in Frisk’s chest. They dropped their gaze to their feet as Sans deposited the offending blade in the sink.

The skeleton finally passed into the hallway, tugging off his rusty red coat. Frisk’s eyes widened when he walked right through the shadowy creature. The leering thing followed their gaze and its grin cracked to nearly split its skull from ear to ear. All the while that polluted red light dripped from its drooping eye sockets.

Sans was back in front of them before they realized it, lightly pressing a bandage to their neck. Undyne cleared her throat once and he clicked out something under his breath. It was almost like a ticking clock only lower and more sporadic. There was a structure to it none the less, so Frisk didn’t think it meaningless.

“jus’....” Sans turned to face the mobster, his gaze flicking to Frisk and then down the hall. He pinched the bridge of his nose and growled. “jus’ put the  _ package _ in the room at the end hall.”

“I thought Alph said you always kept that locked.” She returned his stern gaze quizzically.

“i do. guess why.”

Undyne paused a moment returning Sans level emotionless glare. “Oh.” The captain shrugged. “Okay, but is there a key or something?”

Sans snapped his fingers, a brief spark of blue light erupting from his fingertips. “heh. yeah, a skeleton key.”

Undyne groaned softly and trudged out the door. Sans waited a moment before fixing his gaze on them once again. “ ‘ligth. back to bed with you…” He didn’t move to let them down from the counter, leaning forward on his hands so Frisk was effectively trapped on the cool faux granite. “but first you’re going to tell me what that was all about.”

They shook a little, mind flashing through their nightmare and the previous reset unbidden. “I-I don’t know.” Frisk whispered barely above a breath. Urgency prodded at their mind, encouraging them to not sign. For some reason, they felt like it could read their signs even if Frisk’s hands weren’t in the creature’s line of sight. “I was someplace dark, just floating… and there was static that got louder and louder an-” They sucked in a breath, not used to talking quickly, if at all, anymore. “And I saw things… you…. You were there and… sometimes I  _ was  _ you, an-”

“wait.” Sans shifted so that he could glance around the apartment, listening intently to something that wasn’t there. “you were me? are you sure?”

“It was like… hearing your thoughts and feeling pain, or-” Sans interrupted them again, placing his hand on their knee and staring Frisk in the eye.

“did you see a twisted shadow? might’ve looked like-”

“A skeleton with a cracked skull? Yes.”

Sans sucked in a sharp breath, his brow bone buckling in an unbridled fury. The wrath snapped over his features warping him into something that sent chills of ice through Frisk’s body and soul. It was over just as soon as it had begun and Sans ran both hands over his skull, making more of those clicking noises in a strangled stream. Almost like a hiss… Frisk was certain this was another language, and that Sans was swearing up a storm.

“uhg. ya mind if i…?” He made a vague gesture towards their chest and Frisk noded their permission. The tug was more painful than they’d care to admit. Their soul felt like it could be sore, maybe swollen even. Sans never touched it directly, turning them over with his magic, practically trying to light them on fire with the intensity of his stare. The darker red around the grey gash had closed in somewhat and turned slightly black.

‘Is it bad,’ they sign this time.

“not really? see this discoloration here is the soul trying to heal itself but….there’s a bit much. too much for a recent wound. if i didn’t know better i’d say your drawing magic from someone to speed up the process.”

‘Is that why it’s black?’

“ah well, yeah. um, no? it’s a lot more complicated than that but if you were to draw from another human it would be the color of their soul. white, or black, would indicate a monster.”

Frisk clenched and unclenched their hands ‘Sans, I-’

“Alright!” Undyne barked from the outside hall. Sans grunted at the interruption.

“you can tell me tomorrow kid. i, uh, don’t want you seeing this, okay.” He gently guided their soul back. Sans didn’t move away, but rather forward. His hands were large enough to completely cage Frisk’s torso in bone while he lifted them up. With a slight shift, Frisk was sitting on his forearm, hugging his broad shoulders while he carried them down the hall. Sans lingered outside the guest room door and sighed for the third? fourth? time that night. “after that, i don’ really want you outta my sight kiddo. what say you crash in my room tonight, okay.”

Frisk tapped his shoulders, gazing at him with no small amount of concern and hesitance.

“don’ worry i’ll take the floor. that carpet is always comfy anyway.” He laughed when they puffed out their cheeks. Their own good humor dampening when they caught sight of it peeking around the corner. They hugged themselves tighter to Sans’s shoulders and Chara scoffed quietly at them.

The light blue of Sans’s room blotted out that darkness’s existence and they found themselves glancing around at the messy space. They could actually see the floor, and there was a decided lack of self sustaining trash tornados. Sans set them down on his much larger bed, the soft white comforter reminding them of a cloud or fur or snowdrift. Sans shuffled over to a walk in closet that seemed much to small for a skeleton of his width. There was a clothes hamper hanging on the door along with a surprisingly neat shoe rack. If fact the closet’s inside did not match the scattered feel of the room at all, almost like someone went to obsessive lengths to keep it organized.

Now that Frisk thought about it, the kitchen seemed the same way; equally organize and equally mismatched to the rest of the apartment. So Frisk watched Sans slide off his tie, unknot it and carefully hang it on an empty hook. The skeleton methodically removed and stored his various cosmetic pieces that Frisk hadn’t paid much mind to before. He deftly moved through the buttons on his dress shirt. It was a mechanical kind of efficacy, Sans was free of the dress shirt in less than ten seconds, casually folding it into the hamper while scratching at his neck vertebrae. His white cotton undershirt was bunched somewhat awkwardly around his ribs but what caught Frisk’s attention were that scars.

Several long, jagged, or raised marks ran over his bones, visible even from the few feet away in near total darkness. They must have gasped because Sans sent a glance their way. His smile was small and raw. It was rare to ever see him without that fake plater grin no matter the timeline. What boggled their mind was how Sans could be this scared with only one HP. Any of the blows that could create this damage should have killed him.

“it ain't a pretty sight, hu kid?”

Frisk opened their mouth to respond only to lamely shut it again and shake their head.

“heh.” Sans tugged off his belt and snapped the leather in his hands, eyes dim with distant memories. A dark look passed over his face, turning the grin sinister for a brief moment. That moment passed too and he cast a sheepish grin in their direction.

Frisk could just make out the low shuffle of something being dragged down the hall. They glanced at the door at the same time Sans did.

“erh, looks like i’ll have work tomorrow.”

Frisk just nodded in responce, not removing their gaze from the antique wood.

“well, you better get some shut eye kiddo. we’re gonna have a long day ahead of us.” Sans closed his closet softly and Frisk noticed he’d changed into a pair of pj pants, light blue with sheep patterns on them in an off white. It almost looked to be the same grey-ish tint to Sans’s bones.

They settled down on the bed’s edge, keeping their eyes on Sans as he relaxed. His chest rose and fell slowly, eye sockets resting shut lightly, and hands laced together over his somehow rounded gut. The only thing betray his awakened state was the deep pitched hum reverberating from him. It lulled Frisk to sleep faster than they really realized. A deep, dreamless sleep. Dare they say, peaceful sleep.

At some point in the night they woke up again, only half awake and took comfort in the lingering smell on the pillow. But it wasn’t enough security in the pitch darkness. They stumbled out of bed, quickly finding a large something on the floor that smelt the same. It was round and warm and made them feel safe. Logically they fell asleep on top of it.


End file.
